Obscurity
by rainsrabble
Summary: Hermione has a black knight that watches over her.
1. Default Chapter

Draco Malfoy was an evil git. Strutting around Hogwarts like he owned it, sneering at those he considered inferior…which was pretty much everybody. He was cocky and rude and self centered. He was annoyingly intelligent. Hermione hated that she had to struggle to keep ahead of him in her studies. He didn't even care, he didn't even try, and she had to work twice as hard as him just to keep ahead. What drove her craziest was the wondering. Was he smarter than her? Was the only reason she stayed ahead because he didn't try? Sometimes she just wanted to scream at him, to challenge him. Just to know. But she didn't think that she could bear it if she lost to him. So she studied and she wondered and she watched him goof off.

Draco Malfoy was an enigma. Brutally cruel to her when people were around. He'd even called her a mudblood on more than one occasion. He constantly antagonized her friends. He had a special sneer just for her. A particularly malicious evil sneer. If there was trouble Malfoy was at the center of it and inevitably he would attempt to pull Harry and Ron in with him. Oh Yes, Draco hated the three of them, her especially, with an all consuming passion. So what's so enigmatic about that? Pretty strait forward wouldn't you say? Did she mention that he looked out for her?

First year, Hermione had fallen off her broom. It was the first and last time that she had ever flown. No one had noticed her falling and she had never been more terrified in her life. The ground rushed up to meet her when suddenly her arm was about jerked from her socket. She had looked up into the face of none other than Draco Malfoy, his hand firmly grasped around her wrist, tight as a vise. He had lowered her down, set her gently on her feet and flown away without a word. She hadn't known what to say and the very next day he had gotten in her face and called her a filthy little mudblood for the very first time. The saving of her life was never mentioned.

She remembered one particular instance of being cornered by Crabbe and Goyle in a dark corridor during her second, or maybe it was her third year. Anyway, like a complete and utter idiot she was out and about without her wand. She hadn't noticed before just how mean and big the two Slytherin boys were. Somehow they were a lot more threatening when she was alone with them in the dark. She had been frantically trying to decide whether to run or stand her ground when Malfoy had appeared at the end of the corridor. He called for his goons and when they protested he had snapped at them to hurry it up. She had never known for sure whether it was accident or design that he had saved her.

There was that terrifying night of the Quidditch cup. She had been separated from Harry and Ron. She had been creeping along, Malfoy's dire warning about her knickers ringing in her head when she had been grabbed from behind and pulled into a thicket of trees. For a moment she felt blind panic and tried to bite the hand that was pressed up against her mouth ruthlessly. It retaliation she had been pulled up flush against a muscled chest, and arm wrapped intimately against her middle. "Do you have a death wish?" Malfoy had asked softly, his hot breath in her ear. She had never been so close to him before, and even now she can still remember the way that he had smelled. Like expensive cologne and mint and some indefinable scent that she now associated with Malfoy. A clean warm man smell that was unique to him.

He had shortly removed his hand from her mouth and her skin had felt cold where he had touched her. "Be quiet." He had whispered into her ear and then she had seen them. A group of masked Wizards moving into the clearing where she had been. They seemed to be talking and laughing but she heard no sound, they must have used a silencing charm. Malfoy had placed his hand at her waist and squeezed gently. "Go back through these tree's, about 30 feet north you'll run into your friends."

He had released her and stepped into the clearing ranting and raving about having seen Mudblood Granger head off South and why hadn't they found her yet? She had stood frozen for a long second, remembering the way his touch had felt and mourning the loss of his warmth before her brain had kicked in and she had rushed off to find her friends. That was the first time that she had realized that she was physically attracted to Draco Malfoy. At the time she had thought it was just because no boy had ever touched her that way before, she was bound to get fluttery. But now, all this time later she had been held and kissed many times, well not many, but enough. She knew that bone melting wobbly feeling was attuned just to him.

There were other incidences. Small, odd, abnormalities in her life. Things that made no sense in her well ordered existence. Things she didn't talk about. But sometimes she would watch him across the great hall and think about it. He would ignore her completely, animatedly talking with his friends. Making big gestures with his fine hands. Laughing out loud. And sometimes, much more rarely than she watched him, his eyes would meet hers. She never failed to look away first, hot in the face and breathless for no reason.

Which was why when she found herself pulled into a dark classroom, pressed hard up against a wall, she felt not a twinge of fear. Malfoy's clean masculine scent washed over her and she found herself breathing deeper, trying to inhale more of him. She was acutely aware of her messy hair and her minimal makeup. "Aren't you going to scream?" He asked her, his voice husky and warm. He was close to her, his body a hairsbreadth away from hers, aligned with her from shoulders to knees, without touching her at all.

"No." She said, much more bravely than she felt. Not that she feared him, but her whole body was trembling in awareness and her stomach was doing disturbing flip flops. His eyes almost glowed in the shadows, his hair a white spot in the darkness. She forced her hands to stillness, she would not reach out and touch him, she would not reach out and touch him, she absolutely would not reach out and touch him.

"Aren't you afraid Granger? All alone with the big bad death eater?" His hand ghosted out of nowhere and touched her hair. She was surprised when she didn't flinch and didn't lean into his touch. Surprised and pleased with herself. She did however tense when his hand slid back to the nape of her neck and cupped her throat, his rough thumb brushing over her pulse.

"No." She repeated breathlessly, and was ashamed of her inane reply. Where were all her witty quips? This close to him she was suddenly inept and tongue tied. His thumb traveled across her throat, up her jaw line, and caressed her lips. They parted instinctually and before she could shy in embarrassment he groaned and swayed into her. Hard flesh brushed against her and she groaned too. This close to him she could see his features clearly, drawn tight over high cheek's and fine bones. His eyes were like molten silver in the dark. Her hands stayed resolutely at her sides. She would not reach out and touch him.

"Why do you enchant me?" His lips ghosted over hers, more a mingling of shared breath, a light brush of flesh, than a kiss, but more powerful than even her most intense kisses with other boys. "Did you cast a spell on me?" He whispered before touching her lips for real. He kissed her once, twice, soft meeting of cool lips against hers. His tongue darted out and tasted the fine line of her lips, as if asking for permission before he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth, gaining entrance to her mouth and moaning deep in his throat.

Hermione's world spun out of control and she found herself sliding her hands around his back to pull his body into alignment with hers. He tasted so good, launching an experienced assault on her senses. His tongue tangled with hers and his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head the way he wanted it. His other hand slid down her spine to her behind, cupping her familiarly, like he touched her this way everyday. He pulled her into his body in a decidedly more intimate way and she felt her whole body flush when she realized what was pressed up against her pelvis. His hand slid down to her knee and brought her leg up over his hip so he could fit himself more snugly between her thighs.

She knew she ought to be protesting this intimate touching but she really didn't want him to stop. His lips left hers and she cried out in protest but he bent his head to her neck and she arched into his touch, tremors of pleasure racing through her body. His hips rocked relentlessly against her and it was so much better than her own hesitant touching in the privacy of her room at home. Her center wound tighter and tighter till it was almost painful. She writhed against him, clutching at his shoulders and kissing his neck almost feverishly. "That's right, sweetheart, cum for me." He begged breathlessly into her hair before he kissed her again. This time it was more of a frenzied exchange of nips and sucks and she thought she might break if this pressure on her body didn't end soon. The spiral of pleasure between her legs finally ricocheted through her body in mind swamping waves and she heard his fine silky robes rip under her hands.

He'd called her sweetheart.

Her body was boneless and weak and if he hadn't been holding her up she might have slid to a heap on the floor.

Her breathing was irregular and her whole body still thrummed in aftershocks.

He released his grip on her thigh and her leg slid down his in an intimate tangle. He kissed her throat and shoulder with the same intensity as before and she realized distantly that he was unsatisfied. In her haze of bliss she found herself contemplating how she would give him the same pleasure as he had given her. He lifted his head and she gazed up at him dazedly, realizing she would let him touch her anyway he pleased. The thought scared her back to reality and she blushed profusely. He kissed her again, once more the soft press of his mouth on hers. "Don't do that," he whispered against her swollen lips, "Don't be embarrassed."

"You don't know what I was thinking." She murmured hesitantly, shyly initiating another kiss. Tentatively running her hands up his muscled chest. His sharp indrawn breath, the slight tremble beneath her hands gave her confidence and she swept her hand up to cup his head to kiss him more firmly. He let out a ragged breathless sound and kissed her back. She didn't know how long they stood there, caught up in the dance of lips and tongues and touches. But when she undid the clasp of his robes and reached inside to touch firm flesh he pulled back from her.

"Don't tempt me too much Hermione." He leaned his forehead against hers and she took ragged breathes trying to calm her racing nerves. He wanted to stop? She didn't understand. He'd never said her name before, it sounded almost like a dirty endearment in his roughened husky voice. "Where are your parents?"

Her parents?

Hermione pulled away from him sharply. What was this all about? What did her parents have to do with the price of tea in china? Was this just some kind of sick game? Did he suddenly remember that he was wrapped up in a hot lip lock with a filthy muggle? Hot tears stung her eyes but she brutally kept them at bay.

He didn't let her pull away completely, gripping her arms and keeping her close to him. She might bruise. His eyes were angry and sharp, his voice harsh and low. "The Death Eaters are angry. Harry Potter got away and is wrapped safe as a bloody babe in the arms of Dumbledore. He's not the only target, they want blood. Voldemort wants blood. Muggle blood."

His hands loosened their grip, slid down her arms to her hips. "Half the major Death Eater's are in prison including my father. They want someone to pay. There's talk. You need to move your parents, tonight. Have Dumbledore stash them somewhere safe."

"My parents don't have anything to do with the war." Hermione whispered, horror struck at what he was implicating. "They're just dentists, they wouldn't hurt anyone."

Her breath hitched as he leaned in close to her ear. But her body's reaction was lost in the wave of dismay that washed over her when he recited her parents names, her home address, the address of her parents joint practice, her grandmother's home address, the number of the subway train her father took into work, that her mother preferred to drive, what time the office closed…she pushed him away, appalled at the accuracy of what he knew, the calm detachment in his voice as he listed details about her life. He knew because the Death Eaters knew. They must have someone watching them she thought frantically. She had to get to Dumbledore!

She ran for the door but his voice stopped her cold. "Granger, don't forget, you're a target too. Watch your back." She stood there for a moment, just looking at him, as he stood alone in the shadows. His robe hung open partway, there was a rip in the shoulder, his fine hair was mussed from her touch. Her sense of urgency overwhelmed her and she flew down the hall.

Hi there readers, just making a few grammatical changes. I'll admit that I usually write in the middle of the night and just glance through quickly before posting. I've got a couple of offers for betas and I'm considering using one. I get impatient to update though, it's a failing. Once it's finally written I'm usually dying to post. And some grammar no no's are on purpose. I love fragments.

I can't get anything over on you guys either. You know the books better then I do. Draco Malfoy did call Hermione a Mudblood in second year, long after the first flying lesson. It just suited my plot better to have it first year with the flying lessons. I'm already stealing Rowling's characters and putting them in dark corners kissing. I might as well manipulate her plot too.


	2. Do not go quietly

Hello there readers. I've got to tell you how flattered I am by all of the reviews. I've read them all over many times. This is slow updating for me. Sometimes plot bunnies are fluffy friends that keep you warm in the small hours of the night. And sometimes they are wild little frenzied creatures that overrun you with insane plot lines and crazy off the wall ideas. I wrote no less then a dozen versions of this chapter branching out in feral directions.

I've attempted to sketch out a bare bones idea in my head of where I want to take this. Some idea's are just not in character. Though having Malfoy and Granger run off to Mexico would be fun. Other things I like but I don't know if I can work them in. I see Hermione taking on the wizarding world with a new crusade. Muggle rights. I see her campaigning that muggle born witches and wizards are only a few steps away from house elf enslavement. I see her pissing a lot of people off. I see her plunging on fearlessly and becoming a big target in the war. Anyway, on with the story:

Three Death Eaters were captured in the attack on the Granger home. She wished she could have seen their surprised faces when instead of helpless muggles they found members of the order assembled in her parents' bedroom. She had gone to Dumbledore, of course. She had been prepared to tell him that she couldn't reveal where she had gotten her information. If anyone found out that Malfoy had warned her, his life would have been forfeit. But in the end he hadn't even asked who had told her. It was almost anticlimactic after all of her mental preparation to defy him and refuse to give up her source.

Her parents weren't hurt. But something inside her died that day. She hadn't really thought about her parents being in danger. She would have put herself in harms way for Harry and still would, but she had never thought about the war involving her family. She had always foolishly thought herself on the fringes. Dabbling in something dangerous and exciting and in the end it was her job to be Harry Potter's friend. Now everything was so much more personal. So much more real.

Hermione found darker music to suit her moods. And sat long hours on the roof of Grimmauld place, drawing and thinking. She discovered that she was angry and didn't know how long she had been. Things at Hogwarts were wrong. Before, she had never questioned the division between her muggle life and her magic life. When she went to school she left behind her parents, her music, her laptop, her clothes. Everyone did. She went to school and pretended like she wasn't different than all the other witches and wizards and until this happened she hadn't seen anything wrong with it.

She poured over history books. About how ignorance caused hate, and how hate caused war. Some people she knew were muggle born, like Dean Thomas. But she only knew because he had made such a big deal about soccer during first year. When was the last time she had heard him talk about soccer? He now gushed enthusiastically about Quidditch. Like everyone else. She honestly couldn't name the majority of the school; tell whether they came from muggle homes. Because no one talked about it. They left their muggle heritage at home.

It made Hermione angry. This war was serious. Very serious. And Hermione wasn't going to hide behind Dumbledore and Harry Potter and pretend she wasn't a muggle. When she went back to Hogwarts, she was taking her laptop. Some muggle things were just better. The magical world was delightful with its old world charm, elegant robes and castles, magic wands and dragons. Like something out of a fairytale. And even with all of the Voldemort business it was always kind of like he was the evil villain in some novel and Prince Harry would triumph. She'd been seduced by the fairytale.

The first chink in the illusion had been when Cedric died. But she hadn't really known him, and even though Harry's tortured soul made her want to weep it was almost like he was a minor character. And some minor characters had to die in order for it to be a good story. Then Harrys' godfather was dead. That had been a blow to her. Someone she knew and cared about cut down ruthlessly in battle. But he was a hero and had gone down fighting, just the way he would have wanted to.

Now there were attacks on muggles who knew nothing about magic and evil wizards and wars. Her family was in hiding. Her home was in ruins. Her grandmother and aunt had to be relocated for their own safety. Her parents couldn't go to work. Hermione sat on the rooftop and read about World War two and Nazi death camps. She read about religious wars in foreign countries. She read about atomic bombs and twin tower bombings. She read about dictatorships and terrorists and horrible murders. Then she set her books aside. She wouldn't sit up here and hide and cower. She wouldn't let them win. Because even if they never found her and she was able to ride out the war in hiding, they would have stolen something from her. Her freedom.

Hermione pulled out her cell phone and dialed Janice's number. She'd been out of school for eleven days and had yet to talk to her friends. They were probably worried sick. She chatted with her for a long time, catching up on all that went on over the year. They couldn't exchange e-mails because there were no computers at Hogwarts. Her friends thought that her school must be terribly dull, not even allowed to use computers for anything other than schoolwork. She didn't tell them that there were no computers at all. Finally Hermione suggested a local club to meet at and went inside to let her parents know she was going out.

There was a fight but in the end Hermiones' mom realized that she couldn't leave Hermione locked up in a room. That eventually she needed to see her friends. She was to take her cell phone, her wand, and her moms' car so she would have her own transportation. And she was not to leave alone unless she had to.

Hermione changed into her clubbing clothes. Hip hugger jeans and a bright red peasant top. Not as daring as her friends would wear, that was for sure. She wished she had the courage to be sexy like Janice, or outgoing like Leslie. But she was just plain jane Hermione. She applied black eyeliner to her eyes. The dark smudged look fit her mood lately.

The club was busy and the music throbbed. It wasn't long before she was dancing with a group of her friends. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her, forgetting about everything that was bothering her. She was a decent dancer. This was the first summer she hadn't taken some sort of dance lessons. Ballet, jazz, hip hop, ballroom. This last year she had been old enough to start going to the clubs and found that she was a much better dancer when people weren't watching her, making her self conscious. She never got drunk, that would have been irresponsible, but a few drinks to lighten her inhibitions had her shaking her hips with the best of them.

She found herself thinking about Malfoy, as was often the case these days. Her moves became more sensual as she remembered the way he had touched her. She'd had to leave school immediately even though there was still two days till the train left. She hadn't gotten to see him again. She was so nervous. Thinking about the next time she would see him. Would it be like before, when he had pretended nothing had happened? But this wasn't a casual touch, this was full out snogging. She didn't want to pretend it hadn't happened.

What would he say if he saw her now? Lost in an anonymous grind of bodies, her body twisting to the rhythm of the music. Muggle clothes. That might bother him. He always looked so elegant in his pristine robes. She doubted he would find her tawdry outfit appealing. But then again who would have thought he'd find her appealing? She was nothing like Pansy Parkinson with her blond shiny locks and elegant carriage. Or any of the other beautiful girls he had dated. She was frumpy and plain. But he must have seen something in her; something had made him want to touch her. Or was it all just a game of his? "Why do you enchant me?" His voice echoed in her head more often than she cared to admit.

The night wore on and she had more fun than she had had in a long time. She glanced at her watch, it was ten till eleven. Her mum would expect a call if she wanted to stay out later. She forced her way to the back of the club but the line for the loo was around the bend and her mom would worry if she didn't call by eleven. She bit her lip and looked at the exit sign. The rule was she was not to leave alone. She touched her wand with her hand; it was snugged in a small inner pocket that she had sown on all her shirts. Her mother would never be able to hear her from inside the club.

Hermione pushed her way through the thick wads of people and let herself out the door. The alleyway was cool and dark and she took a deep calming breath, enjoying the night breeze on her flushed skin. She fished out her cell and flipped it open to call her mom. She heard a muttered Accio and before she could counter the spell her cell phone left her hand. She reacted quickly, pulling out her wand and scanning the darkness for the wizard who had her phone. Get inside, her mind screamed. She backed up towards the door slowly, wand held defensively. She never expected a physical attack.

The hands came out of nowhere, knocking her wand aside and gripping her arms. In seconds an iron hand was clamped over her mouth so she couldn't get out more than muffled shouts and her legs were held firm so she couldn't kick out at her assailants. There was more than one of them. "Crimey Howard, Do you know who this is?"

"No! That's not really her is it?"

"Of all the lucky catches, The Dark Lord will be so pleased."

"Let's get her back to Howard's."

Hermione struck out blindly, panic overwhelming her senses. Not just anyone, Death Eaters. She was trussed up, wand less, and at the mercy of Death Eaters. And they knew who she was. She couldn't believe that they had taken her down so easily. Hermione screamed around the hand at her mouth begging for someone to help her. She struggled hard, but they were so much stronger than her. There were at least five of them. In a sickening matter of seconds she felt a horrifyingly familiar tug at her navel and a portkey whisked her away from any hope of rescue.

She tumbled to the hard floor roughly. Her forceful landing broke her free from her captors and she struggled to her feet clumsily. They were in a furnished room with no less than a dozen men. They surrounded her in an uneven circle and Hermione mentally braced herself to go down fighting. With an ear splitting shriek she rushed the circle and was pushed back brutally. She stumbled awkwardly and regained her balance to try again, resolutely ignoring the verbal taunts and laughing. They stepped in, tightening the circle, shoving her sadistically from one to the other.

The laughing faces blurred from one to the other and Hermione hated her tears. Hated giving them the satisfaction. They were calling her names, laughing at her, pushing her. And then it all stopped. She stared at the man in front of her, observed his blank look before darkness closed in around her.

Hermione was safe and warm and comfortable. Her body was rocking gently, she was being carried. This was nice. Wait. Her eyes shot open, her mouth parted for all out screaming. Her gaze fell on aristocratic features, soft lips, and silver eyes. Malfoy. She was being carried by Malfoy. She drew in a deep shuddering breath, relief flooding her senses, and was assaulted by his crisp clean scent. "What happened?" She asked softly, and was shocked by her hoarse voice echoing in her ears. He stopped walking and just looked down at her for a moment. His expression was inscrutable, unreadable. Hermione didn't like feeling confused.

His arms flexed and his muscled tensed like steel underneath her. He was in his robes; naturally. One arm was under her shoulders, the other slung under her knees. Her head was pillowed against the soft silk of his shoulder. He held her easily, as if she weighed nothing, and just stared at her. Hermione's body thrummed and pulsed, as if she had too much blood in her body. And she was aware of every scrape and bruise. Finally he shifted and slid her down his body to her feet. He didn't however let her go. She was intensely conscious of his strong fingers warm against her waist, the column of his throat mere inches from her lips, his eyes boring into her skull. Finally Hermione's brain kicked in, they were on a dark street she didn't recognize. Were they even still in London? How was she going to get home? Her mother was probably worried sick. "Where are we?"

She was astonished at his harsh angry pitch when he finally decided to answer her. "What were you doing out alone Granger? I told you to watch yourself!"

She pulled away from his loose grasp, irritated at his tone. "I wasn't alone!" She tossed back heatedly. "I was out with friends." A horrible sinking sensation settled in her stomach. "Just how did you know where I was? Were you part of it? What were you doing? Were you out muggle hunting and I just happened to get in the way?"

He reached out and grasped her arms tightly, wrenching her closer. She cried out at his rough handling and his hands instantly gentled. Not so his eyes, they raged like gray storm clouds. "I got an owl." He said calmly, biting out each word individually with as much icy venom as he could manage. He pushed the elastic of her sleeves up her arms even as he spoke, examining her colorful bruises and scrapes with a careful eye. "They thought I might want to come along since I had quite a history with the golden trio." Several of the bruises on her arms had distinct finger shapes where her assailants had gripped her. She looked at them dispassionately, almost as if they were someone else's arms.

"How did you get me out?" She asked, her voice sounded distant and far away and she vaguely recognized growing concern on Malfoy's features.

"Sleeping spell." He answered simply; he turned his head and looked up and down the street. "We really can't stay here, someone could come by." He slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his body. He encouraged her to walk down the street, and she took a few stumbling steps before she began to cry. Now that everything was calmed down and she was safe she felt overwhelmed by the horror of it all. She found herself pressed into another alleyway and pulled into sturdy arms. "It's all right Hermione," He whispered, even as she clutched his sleek robes and buried her face against his chest. "It's all right to cry."

His soft words only made her cry harder and she wept uncontrollably. Once she started she couldn't seem to stop and she didn't know how long she spent wrapped in his embrace sobbing her heart out. Finally she cried herself dry. She knew her face would be red and blotchy. Her nose was runny. She kept her head down and tried to figure out how to clean herself up minus a washcloth or a wand or any other useful tools. Malfoy's robes were soaked.

He pressed a silk embroidered handkerchief into her hand, emblazoned with the Malfoy crest. She mopped up her tears but hesitated at her nose, he couldn't really expect her to blow her nose with something so pretty. "Go ahead, I've got dozens." He pushed her hair back from her face and she tried to blow her nose delicately. There was really no way to blow snot and be well mannered at the same time. He ran a gentle hand down the length of her jaw line; she could tell by the soreness that she must have a bruise there. Hermione tried to smooth down her hair; she was sure it was probably frizzy and tangled. For lack of a better place to put the little silk scrap she shoved it in her pocket.

She pushed her hair behind her ears and swiped again at her eyes. She couldn't believe she had broken down in front of him like that. She must look an absolute fright. "You look fine, fucking beautiful. Let's go." Was that supposed to be sarcasm?

"Do you have to use such foul language? Where are we going?" She asked with some of her usual asperity. He rolled his eyes expressively but tugged her close to him again, slipping an arm around her waist. Hermione's senses went haywire with his casual touch. He was cuddling up to her as if they were a couple. Were they a couple? Did a handful of kisses and a little heavy petting make him her boyfriend? He certainly never mentioned it. She was so confused. Hermione liked things to be black and white, simple and to the point. Her "relationship" with Malfoy had no clearly drawn lines, no boundaries, no rules. For crying out loud, she referred to him as Malfoy in her head.

"St Mungo's, get you checked out, back with your parents." Hermione's eyes flew wide and she pulled away from Malfoy's careless embrace.

"I'm fine; I most certainly am not going to St Mungo's."

"You don't know if you're fine. You're covered in bruises and practically in shock. You're going to see a healer and that's final."

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" She cried. Yes she was being irrational. Yes it was sweet that he was concerned about her. But the thought of the paper's finding out about her attack horrified her.

"Look Granger, it's sensible to see a healer. And you are nothing if not sensible. You're parents…"

"Are muggles." He stopped speaking at her announcement and she enjoyed a wonderful moment while he radiated puzzlement. Setting Malfoy off balance wasn't easy, and very rare. "I should go to the muggle hospital."

"You want to get cut open?" He questioned with no small level of alarm and Hermione felt a burst of affection for him. Without thinking she stepped closer to him and cupped his face for a light brush of her lips. He stood completely still under her touch and she stepped back suddenly shy and unsure. He followed her, stepping into her personal space and radiating tension. "You like to play with fire, don't you Hermione." He asked, his voice taking on that husky quality she remembered from her dreams. His hands came up and settled at her hips firmly. He took another step bringing his lower body into contact with hers.

He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers and Hermione fought against the betraying trembling and breathiness that seemed to be characteristic around him. "Do you think about that day, at Hogwarts?" He whispered before touching her lips again. His hands flexed against her hips and Hermione swayed embarrassingly into his touch. Fuck it, she thought in her head as she reached her hands out to slide around his back and tilted her head up for another kiss. He kissed her more firmly and Hermione fisted her hands in his robes for balance. He tasted clean and fresh, like mint. His tongue was silky and smooth and slid against hers in a way that made her think dirty thoughts. He pulled back suddenly and she tried to follow him, to kiss him again. Her whole body stung with the loss of his lips. "Do you?"

Did she what? Want him to kiss her? Oh Hogwarts. Of course she thought about it. It wasn't everyday that she achieved bone melting orgasm with a man she was supposed to distrust and dislike. Or with any one at all. There were a million witty things running through her mind that she could say to lessen the tension, make light of what was now bordering on obsession on her part. "Yeah, I think about it." She whispered back even as she swept one hand up to clutch his hair and pulled his head back down to her lips. She kissed him with a hunger she hadn't known she possessed before him. With a confidence she had never found with other boys. He clouded her mind with his scent and his skin and his lips and she couldn't really find the room in her mind to worry about how she wasn't measuring up.

He pulled back from her and she let out a frustrated sound and twisted her hand in his hair. He pushed her hair aside with a smooth sweep of his hand and kissed her neck softly. Hermione lost all feeling in her legs and wrapped her arms around him tightly to keep upright. "I think about it." He whispered in between mind numbing kisses on her skin. "The way you taste and the scent of your skin. The little sounds you make, your body pressed up against mine." His hand boldly ran up her back along bare skin under the loose hem of her shirt. Goosebumps broke out in his wake and she tentatively tried kissing him back under the soft skin of his ear. She was rewarded and emboldened when he growled and nipped her. And surprisingly that felt as good as his soft kisses.

"Your hair's a mess." Huh? Hermione let go of him to smooth her hair down but he caught her wrists in his firm grip and forced her hands down to her sides. He let her go and reached out to run his hands down her hair, he pulled on lock up to his lips and ghosted a kiss over it. "I imagine it this way, spread out over my sheets. Red I think; the finest silk." He used one hand to wrap around her waist and turned her so that she was back to torso with him, flush against his body. He buried his head in her hair and took a deep breath. "Sometimes I picture you in my shirt, other times naked and golden."

Once again his hand was under her shirt, sliding over the soft skin of her stomach. "I need to get you home." How could he shift gears so fast? How could he go from touching her and telling her that he fantasized about her to taking her home? Home? What time was it?

"Oh! My mom. She's probably worried sick. I need to go back to the club, get her car. Maybe my wand is still there."

He nuzzled her neck, his hands sliding over her skin in a decidedly intimate way. He touched her like he owned her. Like he had touched her this way a million times. And against everything in her mind, her body loved it. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast and she gave a little jump, bracing her hands on his forearms.

"Knight Bus?"

"No!" She said loudly, alarmed at the thought of anyone seeing her like this. "We can take a cab."

"A cab?" He kissed the back of her neck, through her hair. "We should take the knight bus. Get you strait home."

"I can't. There's a secret keeper. I wouldn't be able to tell them where to go. A cab is a public car; we can go to the club and pick up my mom's car."

"Can't we take the knight bus to the club?"

"Do you have to argue with everything I say? What's wrong with a cab?"

"Do you see a cab?"

I had originally been misled about drinking laws in Europe, in the whole UK in fact. I was told by someone that there is no minimum drinking age there. Which makes it plausible for Hermione to take a drink or two. A conscientious reviewer let me know that the minimum age is 18 just like anywhere. So it's completely OOC for Hermione to be drinking. I left it in however because it lends to Hermione's self conscious attitude in a non-obvious way.

As a matter of fact this whole chapter is OOC and I know it. The odd behavior between Draco and Hermione is catalyzed by the kidnapping. This was highly stressing and traumatic and the weeping and comforting are by products of this. You'll see Draco pull back a bit in the next chapter. Hermione dancing in a muggle club and wearing a bit of make-up doesn't necessarily fit in with cannon either but I was trying to flesh her out a little bit, give her more of a three dimensional character. No one who has a passionate nature hates dancing, and you have to be passionate about life to keep up with Draco Malfoy  I'm so obsessed. It's sad really.

Rain


	3. Pain comes in stages

The knight bus was horribly uncomfortable and had the usual arrangement of weirdo's. Malfoy chose a bed on the lower level and reclined easily, as if he rode the knight bus every day. If possible this was even more horrible than the first two times she rode the bus because she had to keep her feet off the ground or the other beds would crush her legs as they slid wildly around. She sat cross legged on the edge of the bed, and when the bed unbalanced her Malfoy's hand would whip out and grasp her firmly to keep her upright. She thought about lying back but it was fascinating to watch him.

He lounged back against the flat pillow like a Sultan. Every time she would begin to lose her balance Malfoy's hand would dart out and steady her. Seeker reflexes she supposed. He watched her with hooded eyes and they didn't speak. She could feel him distancing himself from her. And who could blame him after her emotional outburst in the street? That was just so unlike her. Finally Hermione could control her tongue no longer. The horrible not knowing was just too much for her.

"Malfoy, what's going on with us?"

For the first time his eyes left her, focusing on a point over her left shoulder. "Looks like you have a welcoming committee." She turned her head to see as the bus lurched to a stop and would have flown headfirst to the floor had Malfoy not caught her. Down the dim alleyway to the club she could see several members of the order sweeping the area, wands low to the ground obviously looking for clues. Mad Eye Moody moved forward and there was Harry behind him, light glinting off his glasses. He was the first to notice the bus and started towards her even before she could get out. She grabbed Malfoy's hand and dragged him behind her to the front of the bus. She let him go to leap down the stairs. She ran the short distance to her very best friend and leapt into his arms.

"Harry! I'm so glad to see you!" Tears threatened but Hermione bit them back brutally. She wasn't about to cry twice in one day. She turned to see Malfoy, wave him over but he wasn't there. The bus was gone and so was he.

It was a verrrrryyyy long night. Assembled in the kitchen of Grimmauld place she was picked apart and wrung out. Several members of the order, her parents, the Weasley's and Dumbledore himself plied her with questions until her eyes were so heavy she couldn't seem to keep them open. Mrs. Weasley finally came to her rescue, shooing everyone out until only Hermione and Dumbledore remained in the kitchen. This made her very nervous because she hadn't told them everything. Somehow she knew that it probably wasn't a good idea to tell who had rescued her and so her details on that part were very vague. And Dumbledore knew it.

He looked at her kindly for a few minutes before finally sitting down at the table with her. "The person who rescued you…it was the same person who fed you information at the end of last year?"

Hermione didn't know what to say so she stubbornly kept her lips closed while her mind raced frantically to find an answer that would satisfy the professor.

"It might be beneficial to tell me who he is Hermione, maybe I could help you. Help you both."

"Who said it was a he?" Hermione finally asked. Diversion tactics 101. Turn the tables. Take the offensive. Distract him from his real agenda. Unfortunately Dumbledore was not easily distracted and smiled kindly at her. Apparently he had taken the distractions 101 class.

"I have no doubt that Mr. Malfoy cares very much for you miss Granger. However I would hesitate to put too much trust in him."

Dumbledore was on his feet and out the door before Hermione could form a response and she snapped her mouth shut with a click. Old coot. Nothing got past him. Finding her bed in a daze Hermione decided to not think about it until in the morning.

Sleeping in was apparently out of the picture because Ron and Ginny woke her up early. Everyone just went on and on. She really just wanted to forget the whole thing. Finally she excused herself to her room and got out her wand and her laptop. A good challenge is what she needed to take her mind off things. She quickly recreated Hogwarts wards in one corner of her room with a few flicks of her wand, watching her door guiltily. She had never told the boy's about disarming her wand alarm so she could perform magic outside of school. It was dead wrong but she knew they would never be able to handle the magical freedom. The rules were there for a reason. But she couldn't go without magic for a whole summer; she'd fall behind in her studies.

She'd been able to do basic magic without detection before her first year at Hogwarts. So it made sense that it had to be the wand which was tracked. It had taken her hours of study and spells that first year before she had finally found the trace, built right into the wood. She hadn't been able to remove it completely without raising suspicion but she had been able to block all transmitting of her information. If you thought about it, the wand tracking was a horrible invasion of a persons' privacy, and the minute the boys were out of school she would be blocking transmissions on their wands as well.

The question of how to get her laptop to work inside Hogwarts walls was just the distraction she needed. So she set to work, trying a number of shields and wards meant to bubble around her laptop to protect it from Hogwarts interfering magic. After hours of being closeted in her room without finding a solution Hermione grew frustrated and decided to go for a walk. She grimaced at the heavy bruise on her cheek and considered using her wand to reduce the swelling and hide it, but she wouldn't be able to explain it to everyone else.

No one said anything to her until she was down the hall with her hand on the door. She was surprised by her mother's sharp voice cutting in on her thoughts. "Where do you think you are going?"

"For a walk mum." She answered a quizzical look on her face. Her parents trusted her and she never had to explain where she was going before.

"No, you most certainly aren't going anywhere alone." She said angrily, stalking down the hall to grab her arm. Hermione was shocked for a moment by her mother's vehemence…it was very out of character…and then she found herself getting angry.

"Really mom, I didn't do anything wrong. Why are you acting like a lunatic all of a sudden?" Hermione snarled, pulling her arm loose. Normally Hermione was not ever disrespectful to her parents but she couldn't ever remember them being disrespectful to her and frankly she couldn't deal with it right now. A quick heated argument followed and Hermione knew she sounded petty and immature. But she just couldn't think today, everything was swirling around in her head and the colors were too bright and everything was too hard and she

Just

Needed

To

Get

Out

With a sudden sob Hermione spun around and ran out the door. She ran for a long time, finally slowing to a stop when the stitch of pain in her side was more intense than her need to run. She stood on the side of the road and gasped for air, bent over, wiping tears from her eyes.

She hated this

She didn't feel like herself. Her thoughts were scattered and unorganized. She was being emotional and irrational. Somewhere in a distant corner of her mind Hermione knew that she was having a reaction to the trauma of yesterday. But it was different in the first person, different than in the books. She felt powerless. That was the word she was looking for. She felt weak and helpless and she hated it.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle and walked aimlessly down side streets and main streets past small shops and grocery stores. Every time someone walked past her she would get stiff and her breathing would quicken. She railed at herself. Her fear was irrational. Just because she had been attacked once didn't mean she would be attacked again. The odds of being attacked were miniscule. She was in a well lighted area in the middle of the day and there were people everywhere. Hermione was a logical rational person and she would sort out a solution to this. She needed to get her head strait.

What she really needed to be able to do was defend herself even without her wand. Wandless magic for the most part was classified as illegal. Some spells were acceptable such as apparition or potions. But for the most part illegal. Which meant books about wandless magic were pretty scarce. Hermione absently wandered if she could get away with sending Malfoy a letter. She'd be willing to bet dollars to donuts that he would have something in his family library about it. Something across the street caught her eye and she hurried across the way to get a better look. The building was small and unremarkable, the sign in the window faded.

JKD

Grappling, Trapping, Footwork, Street fighting

Walk Tall and Unafraid

Hermione opened the door and walked in. The woman seated in the middle of the floor looked up and smiled at her, rising gracefully to her feet and glided over. She reached out, gently cupping Hermione's injured cheek and said softly. "You've come to the right place child."

Harry loved the hustle and bustle in the morning before setting off to Hogwarts. Hermione had of course been packed for days. But the Weasley's were running around in complete pandemonium. Everyone was rushing about with bits of toast in their hands, shouting and pushing. Mrs. Weasley shouting for order and for everyone to hurry at the same time. Harry stuffed down a pang of sorrow when he walked down the hallway. Sirius's mother's portrait had finally been pried down and the hall was now silent. But Sirius hadn't been here for that. And he wouldn't be walking with Harry to the train this year.

Harry squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He really was trying his best not to mope about and feel sorry for himself. He was sure that the others were sick of his bellyaching. Other than Hermione's assault this summer had been fairly uneventful. He let himself outside and walked over to Mr. Granger to help him get the luggage into the trunk. The Granger's car had been magically enhanced to fit everyone inside so they could drive to the station. Between the two of them they managed to load the trunk as fast as everyone could truck things out of the house.

Harry looked up as Hermione came out and gave her his best grin and she smiled back at him. But something was missing. Something had been missing all summer. Hermione put on a good show, studied and bullied them to study, but there was a new sadness to her eyes that never seemed to leave. Her innocence was tainted and Harry hated Voldemort all the more for stealing that from her. They all piled into the car and Harry found himself squashed comfortably between Hermione and Ron. It was a good place to be.

It wasn't a long drive but Harry did have a few minutes to really get a good look at Hermione without her noticing. She had started wearing make-up this summer and Harry knew it was to hide the shadows under her eyes. And like everything else she applied it with such skill that it was barely noticeable. Somehow she managed to make her eyes look bigger; her lips look fuller, and make the whole effect to look completely natural. As usual she took no care with her hair, just washing it and brushing it and letting it fly wildly about. But there was enough weight to it now that most of the frizz was gone, creating corkscrew curls the bounced all around her like some kind of waterfall. She was beautiful. And she had no idea.

When they arrived at the station Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger gave out random hugs and kisses. Mrs. Granger was a little more reserved and poised than Mrs. Weasley but Harry had grown very fond of her this summer. She was a lot like Hermione, intelligent and poised. Finally everyone began randomly going through the barrier. Hermione handled her trolley with ease and Harry crossed the magical barrier right after her. This was his favorite part of the year. When he crossed over and first saw the Hogwarts express. It was like coming home after a very long trip. Hermione strolled on ahead of him, completely oblivious to the boys gawking at her. She really had no idea how she looked.

Suddenly it occurred to him how much her muggle clothing stood out, now that she was amongst Wizards in robes. She wasn't the only one wearing jeans but she commanded attention with her bold bright colors. Her denims hung low on her hips in the muggle style and the wizard born's gaped at her as she swayed by. Her top was modest by muggle standards, a moderate vee line and it was long enough to skim the top of her jeans so that no skin showed. But it clung in a way that wizarding robes didn't and Hermione had developed plenty to cling too. Harry guessed he just didn't think of her that way so he didn't notice until other wizards were tripping over themselves noticing. Judging by Ron's dark scowl, he noticed too.

It was going to be an interesting year.

Harry felt Hermione stiffen against him when Malfoy entered the great hall with a group of his hulking friends. He didn't blame her. Just the sight of that git smirking in their direction made his stomach turn. Malfoy looking that pleased with himself always meant trouble for them. But she raised her chin fractionately and smiled at Ron as if nothing was amiss. Ron did not pick up on the tension and continued to gush about Quidditch enthusiastically.

Neville Longbottom unfortunately was not as aware of Malfoy's presence and made the mistake of walking hand in hand with his girlfriend in front of him and his friends. Quick as a whip Malfoy's foot twisted with Neville's and the poor boy went sprawling ungracefully headfirst across the tiles. Before Harry could get a hold of her Hermione was out of her seat and running across the room yelling angrily. She was far too upset to realize that making a scene would only embarrass Neville further. Harry's dislike of all things Slytherin inched up a notch at Malfoy's delighted expression. Harry had no doubt that the evil little slug had planned that move while Hermione was looking, just knowing how she would react.

Harry reluctantly got to his feet and made his way over to the growing crowd of Gryfindor's and Slytherin's. Hermione was in fine form, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed. She was standing a step ahead and slightly to the left of poor Neville, hands clenched into tight fists. "I mean really Malfoy, can't you pick on someone your own size or would playing fair be too much of a challenge for you?"

"Cry me a river Granger." Malfoy spat back, equally revved up and grinning like a madman. Then he launched into an impressive wailing woman's voice. "It's not fair. Don't pick on Gryfindor's..."His mouth pulled into his trademark sneer and he took a step closer to Hermione. In true Gryfindor fashion she didn't step back, just lifted her chin a notch higher to look into his eyes. "That's the problem with your lot, always thinking the world owes you something. Life's not fair Granger, get used to it."

Harry opened his mouth to put a stop to this and grasped Hermione's arm to draw her away before the teachers got involved. But she pulled free and talked right over him, voice rising so that she could be heard. "Bullying someone weaker than you doesn't impress anyone Malfoy. This isn't Malfoy manor; you can't just walk all over everybody here!" He begged her in a low voice to come away and tried to tug on her again but she was completely focused on Malfoy and didn't even spare him a glance. He shot Malfoy a killing glare and tossed him an insult or two but he was again ignored. He shared a look with Ron over Hermione's head and the other boy rolled his eyes before he looked away. They all argued with the Slytherin slime from time to time but when Hermione and Malfoy got into it…well it was never pretty.

Ron tried to get between them but Crabbe pushed him out of the way and Harry had a moment or two where he grappled with Goyle who was trying to keep him back as well. While he was distracted Malfoy managed to get right up into Hermione's space and drawl in his most condescending tone of voice. "Who's going to stop me? You? Your little Dumbledore's army of idiots? Truth is I can do as I please and there isn't a bloody thing you can do about it is there?" Hermione sputtered angrily and actually pulled back to hit him but this time he was ready for her, managing to catch her hand and pull her closer, leaning down to hiss in her face. "I suggest you learn how to speak to your betters little girl, it'd be a shame if something happened to you because of your ignorance."

Pandemonium broke out, Ron finally getting loose of Crabbe and barreling into Malfoy bellowing for him get his slimy hands off Hermione just as she pulled back angrily. Ron's momentum knocked into her and she sprawled on her bum with a cry. At the same time Neville had one of those odd bursts of courage and swung his fist towards Malfoy's smirking face shouting that he wasn't going to threaten Mione and get away with it. Blasted luck however, because Ron got in the way and Neville ending up hitting Ron instead... Hermione managed to untangle herself from the melee, a horrified expression on her face while Harry tried to break it up before…

"What is going on here?" Bellowed Professor Snape, breaking through the substantial crowd. Behind him an angry Professor McGonagall found her way to the inner circle. Instant silence. Hermione promptly stood up strait and answered quite calmly.

"Malfoy tripped Neville."

"Is this true Mr. Malfoy?" Asked Snape softly.

"Of course not professor. Longbottom tripped over his own clumsy feet and these Gryfindors came barreling over here accusing me of making him fall. I can't help it if Longbottom has the balance equivalence of a flopping fish." Malfoy answered in his sneering drawl. His hair wasn't even mussed. God Harry hated him. That slimy git got away with everything.

"Have you been fighting?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply, eyes falling on Ron's swollen lip.

"Uh…" Ron began ungracefully before being cut off abruptly.

"You know what; I don't even want to hear it! Every year you same kids are into it again. You're upperclassman and need to set an example for the younger students. Half of you are prefects and it's only the first day of the term!" McGonagall stopped speaking and took a deep calming breath. When she spoke again her voice was level and calm. "Five points from everyone involved. Go finish breakfast and if I hear that any of you have got back into it today it will be detention."

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a look of deepest loathing before Harry fell into step with Neville and giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "You alright there Mate?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He repeated himself and then gave himself a little shake. He looked at Harry suddenly, eyes sharp and clear. "Do you think Ron's ever going to get around to asking Hermione out? Because the rest of us aren't going to wait forever."

Dumbfounded, Harry floundered helplessly, unsure of what to say until he was saved by Ron telling him to sit. He looked at Neville helplessly for a few seconds before the other boy shrugged and went to sit on the other side of Ron leaving Harry his customary seat next to Hermione. Harry shook his head to clear it. He knew boys watched Hermione all the time. He just figured it was her obsession with her schoolwork that kept them from asking her out. He hadn't really considered that maybe the Hogwarts population felt that Ron had first claim. He would have to discuss it with Ron. Perhaps knowing that his time was short would jumpstart him and he would finally get around to admitting his feelings.

Hermione grumbled nonstop through most of breakfast. Occasionally he would hear snatches of "Evil big headed git." Or "Thinks the world owes him…" and quite clearly "Don't know who he thinks he is." But apparently Hermione wasn't up to conversation with anyone but herself so Harry was left to talk to Ginny Weasley and her chattering girlfriends. Harry wasn't so oblivious to females that the giggling and eyelash batting didn't make him slightly uncomfortable.

It was a big relief when the mail came and the chattering girls were distracted by packages from home. Hermione was digging out Knuts to pay for her paper when two more owls dropped a soft package in her lap. Paying the owl she stared at the package mutely for a full minute. "Hermione? Aren't you going to open that?" Harry asked, slightly concerned about his friend. She nodded wordlessly and pulled open the wrapping to reveal a bold red color. She shook it out slightly, with a look of pure shock. Her gaze flew to the Slytherin table and Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes. Obviously Hermione was not expecting red silk sheets and why would she look over there? He let his gaze follow hers and for some reason was not shocked when he saw that she and Malfoy were staring at each other, again. Not surprised at all.

Lo all. Hermione fighting with her mother is rare, they are both stressed out and when you are hurting you tend to strike out at the one's you love. Sad but true. Sadly I like heavy emotion and plot.

JKD is a form of martial arts street fighting designed by Bruce Lee. The JKD stands for Jeet Kune Do.


	4. Dragon Eye's

Hello there readers. Sorry about the last chapter. I didn't realize that uploading the chapter from word would erase all of my section dividers. I guess I should have checked it before I posted. Bad Girl Bad Bad Girl.

Once again this has heavy plot. Two chapters without at least some smut really isn't my style but neither is pointless smut. But I'll get there I promise. I touched a bit on Hermione's insecurities in this chapter. I see her as confident in knowledge and books but self effacing when it comes to being a woman. I hope that Malfoy can teach her that she's beautiful.

The letters may be a little far fetched. I thought about leaving them out but I liked the concept. I may go back later and tweak the wording...I haven't decided. It may grow on me. There wasn't a really good stopping place so I decided to post, even though this is kind of a weird place to break.

Many Many thanks to everyone who reviewed. Anyone who writes knows what a thrill it is to log in and get feedback, good, bad, ugly...it's awesome to know people are reading. I'd especially like to hear what you thought about the letters. I'm not completely comfortable with them. Not really sure if they fit, or if their clever enough. Anyway, on with the story.

Rain

Hermione scowled at Malfoy for a moment longer before pulling her gaze away and glancing down at the crimson bundle in her hands. She could almost hear his husky voice in her ear whispering about fantasizing about her. Which was absurd. She was Hermione Granger and boys simply did not fantasize about her. But still, she was staring at obscenely expensive sheets and he had kissed her. More then once. Had come to her rescue without hesitation. More than once.

But he had also disappeared without a goodbye. Went out of his way this morning to remind her what an insufferable, immature, evil Prat he was. As if she could ever forget. She had wanted to hit him so bad, until it was almost a physical ache. To think that she had let him touch her, kiss her. Had simply tossed every moral and standard she had out the window and twined herself around him like a ribbon. And now he had sent her an exotic message, and even though she was still mad at him she felt the humiliating ache in her core that he had introduced her to. She shifted uncomfortably as the wetness in her knickers became more noticeable. It was really quite disgusting to have no control over her emotions like this. Teenage libido should be outlawed and she wished it had skipped over her completely.

She really needed to get a hold of herself. Harry was shooting her concerned looks from the corner of his eye. And Ginny Weasley wasn't even trying for discretion, strait up staring at her deliberately. Besides, she was getting all worked up for nothing. It was just camouflage. She could feel the heavy comforting weight of the book concealed within the red folds and shoved down the nervous anticipation dancing deep in her stomach. She set her package aside, carefully wrapping it up in the plain brown paper, and took a deliberate bite of her breakfast. She needed to keep her strength up.

She'd been horribly disappointed when she never heard back from Malfoy. She'd waited anxiously for a letter back almost all summer. She'd half convinced herself that he couldn't figure out her code name. After all it had been a muggle reference. But no matter that she hadn't heard from him she knew in her heart that Malfoy would know who the letter was from. His razor sharp intelligence was one of the things that drew her to him.

_Dear Woodcutter,_

_With your knowledge of the woods I thought you might know where I could procure some items to help me get safely to grandma's house. I may drop my basket again and would need to be able to carry on without it._

_Little Red Riding Hood._

It had taken forever to write those simple lines and she had agonized over writing in code. If it was intercepted and someone understood what she was asking for Malfoy could be in serious trouble. She had finally decided on a muggle based story to camouflage her request. Malfoy wouldn't know what in the world she was talking about but she had no doubt that he could rise to the challenge. The signature was the worst. Hermione usually signed Luv, but that of course wouldn't do. And sincerely or regards seemed far too formal when requesting illegal supplies from someone you had swapped spit with. At last in frustration she had just put her code name.

And then she had waited all summer and never heard a peep. She had thought about it far too much. Finally deciding that he must regret the moments that they had shared. It stood to logic that if you had a heavy petting session with someone and then they never bothered to call you again, then obviously they were uninterested. However logic deserted her where this grey eyed boy was concerned. He was the antitheses to everything logic. If logic even slightly applied to him then they would have never been sharing a lip lock to begin with. Because logically he should not be watching out for her. And logically she should hate everything about him. She hated it when the world didn't make sense. She shot him another dark look for confusing her so badly.

He was of course too busy holding court at the Slytherin table to pay her any mind so she got to her feet with a huff. She stooped to gather up her bundle and stopped at a gentle had on her arm. "Mione, where are you off to? Are you feeling ok?"

"There's just too many people here Harry." She gave him a reassuring smile, turning once again to gather her things, keeping the book carefully concealed. "I have a bit of a headache and want to have a lie down before everyone gets up to the dorms. I've got a prefect meeting later this afternoon as well. And everyone will be grumbling something awful because it's a Saturday…" She let her voice trail off, giving him another small grin over her shoulder as she walked away quickly.

"Hermione!" Harry called, getting out of his seat and she turned back to him, questioning. "You left your schedule." He picked it up and walked it over to her and she knew she was gaping life a fish. She'd been so distracted by Malfoy and the bundle in her arms that she had left without her schedule. That was so completely unlike her. She blushed and shifted her sheets to one hand to take the schedule from Harry. "Mione, are you sure you're all right? I know you got in a fight with Malfoy this morning but usually you're gushing about that schedule."

"I'll be fine Harry." She said, needing to wipe that look of worry from his handsome features. His scar was more prominent because of the adorable worry lines in his forehead, and his brilliant green eyes were wide and anxious. "I haven't been sleeping well. I'll be more myself after I have a nap. We'll go over our schedules then." She turned to go and this time he did not delay her, but when she glanced over her shoulder he was still standing there, arms akimbo, watching her. Something about the way he stood made Hermione think of "him" and she let her eyes seek him out to find him watching her as well. She felt her face grow hot and turned quickly, daring out the door with little to no dignity or grace.

Hermione walked quickly, deliberately slowing her steps several times when she realized that she was bordering on running. Head girl candidates did not run through the halls. Besides it wouldn't do to look suspicious. She loosened her grip on the bundle in her arms and tried to walk casually but briskly, as if she had somewhere important to be and no time to dawdle.

After an eternity she finally managed to reach her room that she shared with three other girls in the Gryffindor dormitories. She let out a relieved breath she hadn't realized she was holding on finding it empty and deserted. She quickly clambered onto her bed, pulling the bed hangings closed and whipping out her wand to perform several high level binding and silencing charms. She didn't really think that such elaborate spells were necessary but her "adventures" over the last several years had ingrained cautiousness into her brain. Besides, it never hurt to practice.

She pulled the sheets apart, draping them around her, loving the luxurious feel of the silky material sliding against her skin. She pulled the heavy book into her lap and traced the outline of the design on front with a gentle finger. It was a wizard with billowing robes standing amidst a whirling thunderstorm. His hands were raised into the air and he wore an intense look of concentration. It was without title on the cover or the spine. She carefully opened the cover, who knew how old this was, and found a piece of parchment folded up inside.

The paper was thick and heavy cream. There was a subtle scent as she opened it slowly. It reeked of money.

_Red,_

_This novel has been in my family for generations. A heirloom really. It's an interesting read, well within your range of interest, and I'm sure you will find it enlightening. Hopefully you will get more from it than the frivolous fancy I found in the public London library. I'm quite certain the woman who works there thinks me quite mad. By the time I stumbled on the children's section she was giving me nervous looks._

_I would recommend staying out of the woods entirely but if you simply must go to Grandma's house you must equip yourself properly. I hear that the Whomping Willow is particularly interesting between 10:00 and 11:00 O'clock on a Saturday morning. It may be worth your time to check it out. If not entirely wise. _

_The Big Bad Wolf_

Malfoy's scrawl was long and elegant. It made her own hasty scribbles seem childish and sloppy in comparison. She read it over a second time, giggling. She could just picture him in a muggle library. Did he go in his robes? Surely he would have gone in disguise. She repressed a shiver at the thought of Draco decked out in jeans. There wasn't really anyway to stay out of it, she hadn't started this fight and she couldn't just stand aside. He was right about meeting him. It was probably foolish to go. She was opening a whole new can of worms.

After all, she hadn't really had much control over their previous meetings. And all but the last two had been pretty innocent. She'd thought endlessly about his desperate kisses, but really had no idea what to do about it. Or what she wanted him to do about it. But willingly going to him…meeting him in secret behind her friends back was a completely different ballgame. That was admitting she wanted to see him again. And the truth was she did. God help her, she did. And perhaps that alone was reason enough to stay away.

He'd signed the letter Big Bad Wolf. Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? Make her trust him so that he could use her in one of his twisted death eater plots. She was no mind reader but she really didn't think so. Hermione was an observer of people, and that just wasn't his style. Perhaps in his younger years, but not now. And not with her. Whatever this was between them, it was vibrant and terrifying and real. So real that even months since the last time he had touched her she could still feel the echo of his caresses on her skin. More likely he was appalled at being pegged the woodcutter, who was entirely too wholesome to identify with Draco Malfoy.

She had two hours to fill. She sat down the parchment and was startled when the words faded from the page. It must have been attuned to her. She tried picking it up again but no words appeared. She grabbed her wand and tried a dozen revealing spells, frustrated. She supposed there would be no correspondence keepsakes. The spell was obviously quite clever and Hermione wandered how he had spelled the paper to respond only to her. Or maybe it was only spelled to disappear once it was read by anyone. She resolved to research the technique. It could certainly be useful when writing to Harry and Ron.

Folding the parchment up she tucked it back in the book and opened to the first page. She would fool with the letter later. She was especially good at breaking all sorts of charms and looked at it as a particularly good challenge. The print was excruciatingly tiny and minced no words. Malfoy had picked up on exactly what she had wanted.

_Wandless magic requires complete focus and attention. Despite common belief, all magic creatures are capable of basic spells without the aid of a magic focusing aid, such as a wand. Magic is housed in the blood and requires a steady focal point and deep mental stimulation in order to project it outside the body. With enough determination, sheer will, and practice one can learn to center their magical energies and propel them outside the spear of their personal aura in the form of either raw magic or spells. _

_The most common tool for attaining this type of result is the use of a magic wand. Usually made of wood or some other natural substance, a wand's heart is often an object with powerful magical properties such as unicorn hair. The magical substance acts as a tuning fork and eases the projection of magical properties outside the individual aura of the host with minimal side affects, often not even noted by the castor. A much rarer alternative is to create an appendage with a magical heart to wear on the body, such as a piece of jewelry or clothing._

_Learning to project one's magical energies without the aid of a magical focus piece is infinitely more frustrating. The magical prowess of the castor will determine the scope of magic one can perform bare of all assistance. Magical strength is critical. A magical focus acts as a channel and often amplifies the strength of the spell. Without this amplification the castor must have the magical strength to complete the spell without assistance. _

_A combination of a magic wand, a magical focus piece, and wandless magic is possible so long as the castor is aware of how each piece affects the others and adjusts accordingly. Once the castor has attained some skill with wandless projection there will be a resonance in their blood and spell casting in traditional ways will be altered by this echo. Also the wearing of a magical object minimizes the focus of a traditional magic wand. These alternate magical arts should only be attempted by the most advanced determined students. Even if no great success is achieved, the side affects will be permanent and will have to be dealt with._

The text went into more detail and Hermione was absolutely fascinated. She was most curious about why wandless magic had been outlawed and resolved to look into it. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with being harmful in any way and more to do with the tracking spell built into her wand. She wondered absently just how much trouble she would be in if anyone found out that she had disabled it. When she had done it she had thought that it was just to track student activities. Perhaps next time she was at the burrow she could skive one of the twins wands, or Percy's wand and see if perhaps the tracking spell had dissolved when they came of age or if every spell they did was still being recorded. And just who got that information anyway? Surely the ministry…

After reading the introduction she skimmed through the text stopping and reading passages that related to side effects. Nothing harmful or disfiguring. Mostly the author seemed to stress that wandless casting would change the way she did magic to a large extent. There was also a large excerpt about how the mental stimulation would stretch her magical potential and increase her magical strength.

That looked promising.

She'd bet money Malfoy could do it.

And there was no way she was going to let him be better than her. At anything.

She would love to see the look on those bastard's faces if they took her wand away and she still managed to blast them into the wall, or out the window, or into space…She deliberately changed her train of thought. She didn't really like to think about her "experience" this summer. She had done her bouts of crying, she had done what she could to put it behind her. And she was taking definite steps to see it didn't happen again. Learning wandless magic was a logical step in that process.

She glanced at her watch and sucked in a deep breath. 9:25. She would have to run to make it to the Whomping Willow. But even with every cell in her brain crying out that this probably wasn't a good idea, she didn't even consider not going. She shoved the book under her pillow, doing a quick…almost sloppy concealment charm. Waved her wand and transfigured her slip on shoes to converse, and whipped off her robes so they wouldn't get in her way. Hermione ran through the common room only slowing to a fast walk when she reached the halls of Hogwarts. She ignored the looks she received for wearing jeans; it wasn't as if she was wearing fluffy bunny slippers or something. It was a Saturday; she ought to be able to wear whatever she wanted for crying out loud.

She breached the doors and broke into an all out sprint. This summer's martial arts classes had included endurance training and she had developed a fondness for running. She stretched out her long legs and pumped her arms, flying across the ground. She slowed slightly when she entered the forbidden forest, dodging trees and treacherous roots. Malfoy was reclining in a Slytherin green arm chair, clashing horribly with the forest, just out of reach of the straining arms of the Willow. Hermione stumbled to a stop and became conscious of her flushed skin and ragtag outfit. She hadn't really thought of the consequences of sprinting a mile but now that she was looking at his pristine self, suddenly the light sheen of sweat on her brow and her unruly curls were a problem. She thought about her appearance so rarely…really only around him.

He rolled to his feet gracefully, immaculate robes falling perfectly around his tall frame. Not a hair was out of place, falling silkily around his ears. He waved one long fingered elegant hand and the armchair disappeared. But things didn't disappear…she noticed a rather large branch and guessed he must have transfigured the chair from it. Her eyes fastened on a beautiful silver band on his hand, a serpent with a glowing red eye, and wondered if it had a magical core. He could definitely do wandless magic then. Had probably learned it in the cradle. His flawlessness brought her own frumpiness into sharp relief and Hermione found herself wishing for a hairbrush.

They stood and stared at each other for an eternity. Finally he spoke and his voice washed over her like waves of dark chocolate.

"Do you know the secret of the Willow?"

"Yes." God she was inane around him.

"Probably know more about it than I do." He replied, his lip turning up in a familiar expression that though condescending was becoming dear to her. "Since you are so athletic all of a sudden why don't you do the honors?"

What was wrong with her? How could she find that condescending upper class drawl in any way attractive? She needed to have her head examined. At least she wasn't alone in her insanity. Half the female population drooled over his silky tones, and the other half over his silky hair. Not to mention the gushing over his cocky swagger and his Quidditch muscles. At least she kept her opinions to herself, if not her eyes. Realizing she was just standing there staring into his eyes like an idiot she spun and ducked the swinging arms of the tree so she could press in the burly knot that held the tree immobile. Malfoy strolled under the branches as if taking a daily stroll through the garden and Hermione forced down a sharp thread of annoyance. What was she, a doorwoman? He did see that she was standing here holding the bloody knot while he took his time, didn't he?

He motioned for her to precede him and they darted into the secret passageway that led to the shrieking shack. As usual she hadn't given much thought to her clothes but these particular jeans did hug her bum awfully tight and she became painfully aware that Malfoy was ghosting along behind her and could see every little sway. She deliberately tried to keep her hips from swinging too much. She jumped and came to a stop, her breath catching in her throat when she felt his warm hand on her hip, his warm breath on her ear. "Relax gorgeous. We're just going to practice a little magic. We're not plotting world domination or anything."

He nudged her forward a bit and her feet set into motion again, but he didn't remove his hand and kept step with her, his feet mirroring hers so that he didn't trod on her feet. "One would think spending years hanging around with Potty and the Weasel you would have become at least slightly more comfortable with breaking a rule or two. Those slimy gits seem to write the rules as they go."

"Don't insult my friends." She tossed over her shoulder, falling more into her usual gait as her annoyance with him distracted her from keeping her hips from swaying. She probably looked like she had a stick shoved up her bum anyways.

"Or is it the company that makes you uncomfortable? After all, I highly doubt anyone knows you're here."

"Are you trying to be intimidating?" She let out a sharp little laugh, shaking her head and adopting her own condescending tone. "I am not uncomfortable and find no reason that I should be." He moved his hand forward, gliding over the fabric of her cotton shirt, along her stomach. She sucked in her breath sharply, leaned back slightly, and completely ruined any credibility she had. His low sinister chuckle tickled the hairs on the back of her neck and her breath hitched again uncontrollably. No wonder his ego was so swelled. She was acting like a complete ninny.

"But no one knows you're here."

She heaved a sigh of relief as the narrow corridor opened up into the ground floor of the shack and there was room to move away from him and his disturbing touch. She ignored the question, statement, whatever…and she avoided his eyes. Looking around the pitiful room instead. She had only been here once and it seemed to be in even worse repair than the last time. "You remember Professor Lupin? You knew he was a Werewolf? He caught the curse when he was a student here at Hogwarts and used to spend his cursed days here so he couldn't harm anyone. There weren't the potions to control it that there are now, you know. It's really not fair the way he is treated by society, the ministry is so narrow minded."

Hermione continued to chatter, not knowing what to do. Not wanting to look at him. He was right. No one knew where she was. She was alone with a boy, in an abandoned shack. She didn't need to be back until the prefects meeting at 7:00. She was alone with the only boy who could make her melt like a puddle on the dirt floor with just a touch on her waist. She turned to walk back to the other end of the hut and found him directly in her path. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel his breath on her face. He reached into his pocket silently and drew out a small box.

Her curiosity stemmed the tide of her nervous sting of words and she held her breath as he flipped open the box. "I had this made for you this summer. A very reliable source. Discreet too."

He reached inside, picking up the pendant by the chain and letting it swirl in the filtered light. It was a silver dragon with a brilliant red eye. "May I?" Not knowing what else to do she presented her back, sweeping her hair carelessly out of the way. Hopeless mop. She held her breath to still her erratic breathing as he reached around her to place the chain on her and then fiddled with the clasp. She looked down at the charm. She could feel the magic pulsing within, much like the bond with her wand, but it was different. And there was a distortion, an echo.

The detail was exquisite, beautifully sculpted sweeping wings, and the eye almost seemed alive. "Malfoy it's beautiful." His hands left the clasp and trailed down her neck to her shoulders and she was forced to take a breath as she became dizzy from the lack of air. Or perhaps it was his touch, branding her skin right through the thin material of her top. "What is it that makes it pulse like that? I can feel it, it's….powerful." She said even as she turned, looking up into his swirling gray eyes. She felt bold, reckless, and wondered if it was a side affect of the magic in the necklace.

"The stone is made from Dragon's Blood."


	5. Some rules are meant to be broken

There were way too many reviews to mention everybody personally. But I read them all many many times while I was writing. Thanks to everyone for all your support. In answer to a few questions: I don't know if I'll do any of this from Malfoy's point of view, as it stands now I don't plan to.

Eventually you will find out why Malfoy is so obsessed with her. But it will probably be him telling her. Thanks for your comments on my letters.

Hermione/Draco is my current new craze and I've managed to wind up some of my other fiction so I can devote more time to it. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while and I just had to put it on paper. I hope the next part comes quicker but my muse can be very slow and annoying, however I will feed it lots of chocolate and do a little groveling to keep the writing up.

Rain

Malfoy was being a perfect gentleman. It was very irritating.

She had thought that he might kiss her, when they were standing there face to face, his eyes dark and gleaming. But instead he had made some rude comment about her make-up and demanded that she didn't wear it anymore. This of course had angered her and she had quickly put him in his place. Not that he stayed there. Oh high and mighty Malfoy never lowered his eyes in shame. He had smirked at her, causing her to blush and admit that she wasn't sleeping well and looked like death warmed over without it.

His eyes had softened, and he had brushed one gentle hand over her cheek.

And then he had been all business suddenly, showing her the secret of wandless magic. Moreover she had been so excited that she couldn't feel any real resentment that the earlier romantic moment was lost. But even when she had first managed to make the wind stir and had leapt in his arms in an enthusiastic hug, jumping up and down like a child, he had still only hugged her back. Admittedly he had run his hands firmly up her back, but still it was only a hug. And he had let go of her way too quickly.

She decided to say something, to break the silence. Malfoy was being too polite. It was creepy.

"Do you think Ron and Harry could learn how to do this?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her arm still as she flicked the candle on and off in front of her. She'd mastered the trick quickly enough but she always wanted to do the wand movement with her empty hand. She could light a candle without any "foolish wand waving" but anything more difficult either failed or she had to move her arm. Still it was all very exciting, despite her massive headache. Draco said the headaches would temper off once she became efficient.

"Potter could manage well enough, but he's too brash. He'd lose his head and use it where he shouldn't and land himself in trouble. Really requires too much concentration and practice for poorboy, he can barely get by in class with all of your tutoring."

"Don't call him that."

"What, in my statement, was untrue? He is poor." Draco was lounging on the chaise he had transfigured, arms behind his head, eyes closed. She could look at him without him realizing she was staring. She let her eyes wonder over his fine features, the column of his throat. She concentrated and a sputtering flame appeared on the candle wick.

"There's nothing wrong with being poor. But when you say it, it's demeaning. It's an insult." She liked his arms, lean strong muscles, hard as iron, a light dusting of golden hair. His chest was outlined by his robes, flat stomach. She let out a sigh and extinguished the candle. It was easier to put it out.

"Lots of people are poor. Unfortunately you're freckled ragamuffin is also a Weasley."

"Oh so this is all about his family. Your father would hate my family too so maybe you should suit up and hate me as well." She felt a burst of frustration and pushed magic through the dragon at her neck. The candle burst into flame, along with the table it stood on. Hermione jumped back with a startled cry, reaching for the wand that Malfoy had confiscated from her. That was the problem with the piece, it amplified her magical energies but it made no effort to control or contain the magic. She would have to learn to do that herself. So far she hadn't had much success in that.

"Our families have hated each other for generations. Who am I to argue with tradition?" He drawled, silver eyes fastening on the roaring fire in front of her. The fire extinguished itself and Hermione let out a relieved sigh. "Besides," His eyes closed again. "You're family is a lot more like mine than the Weasels. My parents would like yours if they weren't muggles."

As always he knew exactly what to say to slip in under her skin and irritate. Her voice came out sharp and harsh and she found she didn't care. The nerve of him! "Make no mistake about it Malfoy," She spun to face him fully, commanding his attention. He somehow sensed it and his grey eyes opened and fastened on her. "Our families are nothing alike!"

"Because my fathers a death eater? Because he betrayed every scrap of honor we've spent centuries perfecting to go chasing after an old crazy fool?" His eyes pierced her soul and made her breathe short; she had to focus on his shoulder to hold onto the thread of anger in her body. The last thing he needed was another foolish girl crumpling to a heap at his feet. She wasn't the foolish type and it was time she remembered that where he was concerned. He snorted, and her gaze flew back to his face. How could he make even a snort sound elegant and refined? "I'm not talking about political idiocy. I'm talking about more fundamental ways of thinking."

He had beautiful eyes

"You're family is uptight and judgmental. They are nothing like my parents."

His full lips turned up in a slow curve, his smile a mockery of anything sweet or joyful. "My family is judgmental?" He snickered, his eyes lighting up with mirth. He sat up, bracing his hands on his knees, the sleeves of his robes sliding down to cover his arms. "You've met my mother one time, in less than favorable circumstances. You've met my father less than half a dozen times, and he's no shining example of a Malfoy. And yet you have formed a concrete opinion of the whole lot of us. And we're judgmental?"

"Your parents value intelligence and education." He held up one hand, ticking off one long elegant finger. "They prize good breeding and etiquette. They are moderately wealthy and always always have the finest quality available."

"MY parents are not caught up with money!" She burst out. Where did he come up with this stuff? "You don't know anything about my parents."

"I know you."

His eyes ran from her toes to her eyes and she crossed her arms defensively over her chest. Sometimes he looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

"Intelligent, Sophisticated women like you don't spring up out of the either." Hermione felt herself blushing. He thought she was sophisticated. That was huge coming from him. "I didn't say you're parents were obsessed with money, I said that they only surrounded themselves with quality. Take your robes for example."

"My robes? Malfoy, my robes are exactly the same as everyone else's robes at Hogwarts."

"No they're not. They are Lauren Spangdell robes." At her blank look he continued, a trace of irritation finding its way onto his features. "A tiny out of the way shop in Diagon Alley, all potpourri and lace inside. That's where your mum took you to buy robes."

The fact that he knew this was beyond disturbing.

"And…"

"My point is Granger," He said, obviously exasperated, rising to his feet and gliding towards her. "Is that your mother took the time and effort to find out who made the finest witching wear and made sure that you were attired in it." He reached out and trailed one hand down her sleeve in a soft caress. "I don't know anything about muggle clothes, but these are finely made garments and I'd be willing to bet that they are very expensive."

His hand settled at the curve of her waist, a possessive casual touch that messed with her mind. In her rather limited experience of Victor Krum and two muggle boyfriends she'd never had anyone touch her the way that he did. She couldn't quite put her finger on what was so different, but he was surer, firmer. There was no hesitance in him at all. He was doubtless much more experience than any of the boys she went out with but there was more to it than that. He touched her like he was entitled. Like she belonged to him and he could do anything he wished and she wouldn't protest. He was Draco Malfoy, and she was Hermione Granger, what in the world gave him the idea that he could touch her anyway he felt like anytime he wanted? What made him so sure she wouldn't protest?

The truth was she wanted him to touch her so much more. Perhaps that was the real difference. Only with him did her blood stir and her body tingle. The horrible mixture of nervousness and shivery anticipation washing over her that was becoming slowly familiar in a disturbing sort of way. "Just because my parents buy me nice clothes doesn't make them obsessed with money."

"You're twisting my words. I did not say they were obsessed with anything. Also you keep saying money, I keep saying quality. The two things are not synonymous." His other hand came up, grasping her waist on the other side. His hands flexed and his eyes grew dark as she stared up at him like a dolt.

"Really Malfoy! Why are we arguing about this? So my parents like nice things and have a bit of money. Our families are still very different." Hermione lifted her chin defiantly, a stance that had always lent her confidence. She placed both her hands on his forearms, lightly sliding them from front to back to front again. Nothing bold. Nothing reckless. She just wanted to touch him and could not think of a single reason she shouldn't at that moment, even though she knew there were plenty. Harry, Ron, the War, Mr. Malfoy, Slytherin…" His head was lowering, she wasn't backing away. Why did she do this to herself?

His lips were soft and firm. They brushed over hers, once, twice, before she groaned in frustration leaning in to get better contact. He chuckled, deep in his throat, lips opening, caressing hers. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer and her hands traveled firmly up his arms to his shoulders, to balance herself. His tongue brushed her lips and hers darted out to meet it. He titled his head to gain better access and kissed her again, gently prodding her mouth open and slipping his tongue inside.

He tasted like heaven and Hermione clung to him like a burr. She couldn't get her body close enough to his; she was burning all over for his touch. When he was this close to her she was shameless and couldn't even find the presence of mind to be embarrassed about her brazen wiggling against him. One hand firmly traveled down to her bum and caressed her blatantly and she didn't feel even a twinge of discomfort, moaning in his mouth at his electric touch. "These pants are painted on." He whispered in her mouth. Sweeping in and kissing her again. "I've been dying to touch you here since arrived panting and sweating in the forest."

His other hand was slipping under her loose t-shirt to caress her bare back and Hermione only clutched him closer, kissed him more desperately. She only knew that she didn't want him to stop touching her. She'd worry about the how and why and the consequences later. But right now. This was perfect, in this old filthy shack, broken furniture, patchy sunlight. All she cared about was that no one knew where she was and no one was looking for her.

"You were all wet and slick, fuck yeah." He whispered, leaving her mouth to trail kisses down her neck. She arched back against his arms to give him better access to her body and he groaned low in his throat. His hand moving from her bum to the hem of her shirt to inch it up though gave her pause. He must have felt her tense because he lifted his head, face inches from hers, and deliberately tugged her shirt up; instinctively she lifted her arms, blushing a sunset as he tossed the garment behind him on the chaise. His hands firmly placed themselves at her waist and he pulled her back up against his body.

"Ever been this far?" He asked simply. She looked up at him, so close to him she was sharing his warm breath.

"No."

He didn't comment. Instead he bent his head to her neck and laved warm kisses over her heated skin. His hands slid up her bare skin, down again, landing at her hips. Her breasts were crushed up against his chest. Her hips thrust instinctively against him and he groaned. Tentatively she leaned in to taste his skin, small careful kisses on his neck. He let out a soft ragged sound and clutched her hips closer to him. Hermione felt a rush of adrenaline at her power over him and her kisses grew bolder, more insistent. One hand tangled in her mass of hair and drew her head back; she let out a gasp when he placed a soft kiss on the top of one breast, outlined in silk.

Oh God

He waltzed backwards, taking her with him, layering kisses on her breasts. She groaned when he spun her around, pushing her down to sit on the chaise. He dropped gracefully to his knees, pushing between her thighs and stared up at her.

He looked at her like she was beautiful. Right now, even with her shirt off, she felt sexy, like a woman. She was always the brain, the bookworm, but he made her feel feminine. She hadn't been kidding, she had never ever even come close to letting someone undress her, much less touch her. His hands slid up her thighs, over her hips, up her sides. Her whole body was a trembling mass of anticipation. Now with him, she might just die if he didn't touch her. He leaned forward, brushing his chin over her breasts and then burrowing his face between them. The clasp of her bra coming undone was like a gunshot in the silence.

He drew the scraps of fabric down over her shoulders with excruciating slowness, kissing down her shoulder and collarbone as he went. When her breasts bounced free she gripped his hair and pulled him up to her lips for a kiss. She needed the distraction of his lips and tongue. She just couldn't bear the anticipation any more. He kissed her like he was drowning. All moans, and nips, and sighs. And he cupped both her breasts in his strong hands. She boldly slipped her hand down the back of his robes to caress his shoulders; he fondled her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples.

His touch felt so good that her head was buzzing.

Slowly she became more aware of the sound. It wasn't her head, it was his wand. "Malfoy?" She questioned in between mind numbing kisses.

He pulled back, a lopsided grin on his face that seemed hugely out of place with his flushed skin and mussed hair. He was breathing heavily, his eyes heavy lidded and dark with passion. She'd done that, unraveled his pressed neat appearance. Reduced him to just her lover. Who cared about the buzzing?

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he avoided her lips.

"If we don't leave right now we will be late for the prefects meeting. I charmed my wand to keep the time."


	6. Unwinding

I've got the best reviewer's. Personally I'm all for the jump Malfoy screw school plan. Or Maybe the skip school, screw Malfoy plan. However you want to look at it. Alas Hermione doesn't know what's good for her and Malfoy will probably have bruises from when she pushed him off of her so she could frantically get dressed and to the meeting on time. No fun, I know. Actually the "event" is already written, so it's preordained, like fate.

I went through and fixed some of my grammar mistakes in previous chapters. I just throw ' around like crazy and often proof at 2AM. It's a failing. Spelling mistakes drive me bonkers and so does hard to understand wording. We all have our pet peeves. I'll consider taking a beta, I've had several very kind offers, I just get really impatient to post once I've finally managed to write something. I know, I know, patience….I suck at patience.

Rain

Hermione just knew that everyone could tell what she had been up to. There hadn't been time to change her clothes, and her knickers were uncomfortably wet now. She couldn't help but squirm. And her hair must be more mussed than usual. And surely she was flushed. Malfoy of course was as cool and collected as always. Eyes sweeping dismissively over as if she didn't even exist, lounging with loose limbed grace in one of the squishy armchairs. Occasionally his mouth opened and he would drawl sarcastic comments that brought absolutely no worth to the meeting.

Perhaps he was so casual because he wasn't expected to contribute to the meeting. Hermione had never had any trouble speaking up in a crowd before. She loved the way that adding her knowledge to the group made her feel. Today she wanted to strangle Mandy Swanson, who was head girl, who kept asking for her input.

"Due to recent events it's been decreed that all patrolling be done with partners. Shawn and I will be working up a rotating schedule. Right now we think it's best if we change partners and routes weekly so that things don't get to stale. We also will need to be beefing up security in other areas. Any ideas? Hermione?"

"We have several events to plan this year and need to divide up labor appropriately. Decorating, Planning, ext. Muggles use planning groups called committee's and Dumbledore has suggested we try to integrate that approach. Hermione could you please stay after this meeting? I'd like to discuss this with you."

"The social calendar is a little dull here at Hogwarts and Dumbledore has agreed that we can plan a couple of school dances or events to liven things up. Let's have everyone think of ideas and meet next Friday to discuss it. Hermione could you organize that meeting with everyone?"

The meeting seemed to last forever. On one hand she was deeply flattered by the head girl's confidence in her and her obvious enthusiasm to use her skills. On the other hand she was horribly aware of Malfoy, kept catching herself staring at him, and knew that she was butchering her reputation with her shaky inane replies. Finally the meeting broke up and people stood, saying their goodbyes and gathering their things.

Hermione was waiting impatiently for everyone to clear out, this wasn't a social event, it was a prefects meeting, when she felt him brush up against her back, his scent overwhelming her suddenly. His voice was husky and low in her ear, "Relax Granger, they can't read minds."

She started violently and looked around furtively to see if anyone noticed them. By the time she opened her mouth to reply his warm body was moving away. She turned her head in time to see the door swinging shut behind his billowing coal black robes.

She so needed to get a grip. Malfoy was absolutely right. Even if people did notice that something was wrong with her, there was no way that their minds would jump there. Her mind flashed back on earlier, him kneeling between her legs, his hands on her breasts, his tongue in her mouth. She knew she was blushing. She was being silly. Knowing that didn't change the way she felt one whit.

"Hermione? Are you feeling all right? You seem to be very jumpy and flushed today."

Hermione gave Mandy a shaky smile.

"I'm sorry Mandy. I'm actually not feeling well. I'm sure I'll be fine after a good nights sleep."

"Oh, do you want to do this committee thing at another time?"

"No, lets get started though." Hermione said briskly, finding her concentration vastly improved minus one particular prefect. She sat down at one of the large conference tables, pulling out a pad of muggle paper and an ink pen. Mandy eyed her choice of writing implements uneasily but sat down with her and Hermione found the work to be a delightful distraction.

The Gryffendor common room was bursting with people, and as was to be expected, full of food and butterbeer. Last night before the start of classes usually meant an impromptu party. He and Harry had skived the goods from the kitchen and were now involved in a very rowdy game of exploding snap. Still Ron was immediately aware of Hermione when she finally came into the room. She'd been flustered and sketchy at the prefects meeting and Ron had been waiting for her to get back so they could talk. He wasn't pleased to notice that he wasn't the only one who turned his head when she came in.

He needed to ask her out soon. But every time he even thought about it the words got stuck in his throat and something else entirely popped its way out. Perhaps what he ought to do is just lean in and kiss her. Somehow it had always seemed like he had all the time in the world to get up the nerve, she wasn't going anywhere. But there was something so different about her this last year. He confident step, the way she held her head up. And the other boys at Hogwarts weren't blind, despite her know it all attitude; she was quite easy on the eyes.

She ignored them both and dropped her things in a corner. Her delicate hand undid the clasp of her robes, and several buttons before shimming out of them to reveal jeans, a loose top, and sneakers. She seemed completely unaware of the sudden scrutiny as people stared at her. Her curves were one of the big differences in her this year. She'd started developing breasts a few years ago and now they were full and plump, but her hips had just rounded out this year. Those low jeans she was always wandering around in hugged her figure like a glove, even if she did wear those horrible bulky belts all the time. He'd think her little striptease was meant to entice if he didn't know for a fact that she was completely oblivious to her charms.

She dropped the robes in a silky pile on her things and slid to the floor to stretch. Ron felt his ears turning red as he looked around the room. She wasn't going to do that here? Was she? Her new hobby was abnormal and really freaked him out, and now she was going to do it in front of everybody! Ron frantically wracked his brain to figure out how to distract her and called her name. She gave him a little wave from her place on the floor, pulling out her wand with her other hand and transfiguring a ladder-back chair into a sturdy looking dangling muggle thing that she called a punching bag. This was so much worse then those stupid elf hats.

She rose gracefully to her feet, pulling her long curly hair into a loose ponytail low on her neck before jabbing out and hitting the bag with her fist. Within minutes she was dancing around the bag, a flurry of punches and kicks. Several people had stopped to watch and Ron was so embarrassed for her that he was considering leaving the room. A particularly vicious kick made the bag spin wildly and she made a frustrated sound when she hit it at an odd angle. When Harry stepped up to hold the bag steady for her Ron let out a curse and stomped away. He didn't understand why Harry encouraged her in this. Muggle dueling was stupid and useless. It would never do her any good. She was a witch, and a woman. And women were not supposed to act like that.

After a while everyone stopped paying attention and Ron tried to play chess with Seamus. But he was distracted by the thuds and grunts. So not sexy. After a while she finally quit, and Ron felt a moment of premature relief, because she squared off with Harry and they started doing some of that trapping stuff that Hermione was teaching him. They were laughing at Harry's fumbles and Ron finally gave up on the chess game when Seamus got up to wonder over and watch, along with several other people. With a disgusted look over his shoulder at the small crowd watching his two best friends, while he sat alone at a chessboard, he sighed and went upstairs.

Hermione was distracted for a moment by Ron leaving, after ignoring her completely for forty five minutes. Really, she didn't know what his problem was. Harry managed to get his hand around her wrist and pulled her off balance, play punching her in her face. She brought her hand up to deflect the punch, jabbing at his eyes and then sweeping at his foot while he was off balance. He fell heavily and she reversed her grip on his arm, causing him to flip to his stomach, wrenching his arm back and rendering him harmless. Really Harry wasn't much of a challenge for her, but practice was practice. She let go and stepped back, giving him space to climb to his feet.

Harry always took her winning good naturedly, he seemed genuinely glad that she was good at this and it seemed to make her feel better. Her friends from the Dojo made Harry decidedly uncomfortable though and he had never trained there, though he had walked with her several times. The place she had found did not cater to the rich. It was a small out of the way place and the students there were troubled kids, who had reasons for wanting to learn to fight. He was a good friend to her, doing this with her. He had no real passion for it and it was sweet of him to train with her.

But she could tell he was getting tired so she excused herself, changing the bag back to a chair, and scooping up her stuff. Her roommates were still down here so she would have some quiet time in her room to do a few scholastic things before her run. She wanted to look through her potions notes from last year, and scan through the book before her first class with Snape. His class was always a challenge and everyone went on and on about how brutal the advanced potions class was. She also had been working on transfiguration all summer but wanted to reread the first chapter of her text to make sure she was as ready as possible. She wanted to stay as busy as possible so not to dwell on the insanity at the shack.

Her room was as expected; warm, cheery, and empty. She neatly put her things away before getting out her laptop and sitting crosswise on her bed. It had taken her ages to make the thing work in magical circumstances and it still wasn't quite right. Her wireless internet simply wouldn't work. She supposed that those security measures were necessary. After all there was a reason that all communication was watched in and out of Hogwarts. It was supposed to be one of the safest places to be. But communication by owl with her mother was tedious and slow.

So the small blinking letter at the bottom of her screen declaring that she had mail was completely unexpected. Maybe her laptop had somehow gotten turned on during the train ride and had uploaded some messages. She clicked on the envelope and waited impatiently for the page to load. She had one new message from silverphoenix.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I am suitably impressed by your extensive charm ability. You should note that you are the first and only student to ever override the schools magical interference to make a muggle electronic devise work properly. _

_I appreciate your reluctance to breach the communication barriers as well. It shows excellent judgment. As you are aware, security at Hogwarts is a very high priority and I acknowledge your respect for that. If for some reason you do have a pressing need to communicate outside the school please let me know and we can either lift the barrier temporarily or use traditional methods._

_As impressive as this accomplishment is, discretion is necessary. If the word was to get out about your laptop, we would have hundreds of diligent students attempting to duplicate your feat. One small bubble as you have created does not disrupt our security wards; several would be more difficult to control. At my request please keep your laptop put away except when you are alone. _

_Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione read it over several times, her mouth hanging open. Nothing got by him. Yet still he thought that she had not connected to the internet out of respect for security, not because she didn't know how. She was suddenly deeply grateful that she hadn't figured it out. She was also deeply flattered by his compliments. The only student? Surely he must be mistaken, but he had known the minute that her laptop was on his grounds, so surely he would have known if anyone else had…

She moved it to her saved documents and pulled up the potions notes she had scanned in over the summer. So much for using her laptops in classes. She was looking forward to debating the rules with Snape in the morning, because she had known he would protest. She tried to immerse herself in her studies but her thoughts kept drifting. She thought about going to the library and finding some new material but decided to go for her run early, clear her head.

The night outside was cool and crisp, the packed dirt firm beneath her trainers. Hermione breathed deep and even as she ran at a steady ground eating pace. He had the most beautiful eyes, a silver grey storm. His lips tasted so good. Was she really going to go all the way with him? Would she have stopped him? Would he have stopped? Like before when he told her it was enough. And what was he doing kissing her like that anyway, even if she had wanted him to. Even if she had let him undress her without a hint of protest.

She rounded a corner, feeling the burn in her legs, ignoring it, breathing evenly.

His shoulders and chest had been rock hard under her hands. Solid as a rock. Subconsciously that's how she saw him. Solid. Dependable. If he wasn't such a prat to everyone. Oh God. If Harry had known what she had been doing earlier today he certainly wouldn't be happy. And Ron would go absolutely ballistic. All of the Weasley family would be disappointed. But when she was with him all of that faded into the background.

Like he was the only person in her whole world.

She wanted it to be him. She realized, pushing herself faster, stretching out her legs for a final sprint. When she thought about making love it was always Malfoy in her half formed picture. Maybe not tonight, but eventually she would be ready and she wanted Malfoy to take her there. Show her what it was like. Really she couldn't picture anyone else. Finally completely winded and unable to control her breathing Hermione stumbled to a halt, bracing her hands on her knees and taking ragged breaths. After a few minutes she began to walk slowly, cooling off. Now that she had stopped running her legs felt rubbery and weak, but she felt tired and relaxed.

She felt more than saw him fall into step at her shoulder. They walked silently together under the boughs of overhanging trees through the shadows. By unspoken agreement she followed his lead when they veered off the path onto the grass and finally arrived at a small out of the way courtyard, very seldom used, but neatly kept. He picked a large tree with spreading roots and whipped off his cloak to lie on the ground at its feet. She sat down delicately and accepted the ripe apple he handed her, the sweet juice quenching her thirst. He picked another for himself before settling down next to her, one leg bent, the other strait, leaning up against the tree trunk.

It was a comfortable sort of silence, one that she was surprised to share with him. She ate her apple quickly, tossing the core, and then redoing her ponytail, much of it having escaped during her run. "You didn't used to run." He commented, taking another slow bite of his apple.

"I took it up this summer." She leaned back on her hands, letting her hair fall away from her sweaty neck and stared up at the stars. The breeze felt good on her flushed skin. That was the funny thing about Draco Malfoy. Even with her stomach doing insane acrobatics and her heightened awareness of every nerve on her body, somehow she just felt comfortable in his presence.

"You've got potions in the morning?" She nodded dreamily, considering laying back, tracing the centaur in the sky with her eyes. He tossed his apple core over his shoulder and stretched out on one arm, crossing his legs at the ankles. "What did you think of Borgitrovisties essay on altering switching elements?"

"Completely ludicrous. I mean honestly he would be violating at least fifty ministry laws and the whole premise is immoral. Not to mention I'm not sure the whole idea is plausible. Bluestrang grass? It hasn't even been proven to have magical properties."

They debated.

Hermione was in her element, lying back, head to head with him. They discussed several political figures, potion theory, and her half formed views on wandless magic. It had been a long time since she had been mentally challenged in conversation. Her father used to debate with her all the time, and still did over muggle issues, but he had no idea about her world. She had really missed being stimulated this way. And soon it was late. Hermione gasped at the time blinking back at her from her watch and scrambled to her feet, tossing her mop over one shoulder.

Draco was much more leisurely, climbing to his feet slowly, stretching languidly. Hermione found herself riveted by his flexing muscles. He draped his cloak over one arm and reached for her suddenly, grasping her hand and tugging her forward into his space. His lips brushed gently over hers and then he released her. "You've got to relax a bit Granger. You get really stressed about things."

"I have a lot to be stressed about!" She snapped, resisting the urge to touch her lips. She was so confused when he acted like this. Like he was her boyfriend. But tomorrow he would be laughing at her humiliation in potions along with the other Slytherin idiots. "It's two in the morning, I should have been abed ages ago."

He pulled her body close to him then, slipping an arm around her waist and brushing a kiss against her temple. "You're lips taste like candy, and you smell like sunshine. I shouldn't be here with you."

"But you are here." She whispered back inanely. His scent wrapped around her like a cocoon. Warm and clean and expensive cologne.

"So are you." His hands swept up her back and back down, and he nibbled on her ear for a second. "Let's get you to bed."

He gave her nudge to start her walking and fell into step with her. "You haven't figured out how to break my vanishing charm yet."

"No. I haven't had time."

A little note about Ron's behavior in this chapter. First off these are his private thoughts, not something he shares with anyone. He doesn't think in his head that Hermione's perfect. I think she is annoying to him but he wants her anyway. And lots of guys are uncomfortable with physically strong women. I'm trying to portray how unsuitable they are for each other. I think that Ron is obsessed with appearances and cares very deeply what people think. Not that he's a bad person or anything, just not a good fit for someone like Hermione.


	7. Interlude

Potions, as expected, was a nightmare. Hermione was running on next to no sleep. She had been up with Malfoy half the night and then had laid awake thinking about him. She was turning into one of those girly girls who mooned over a guy instead of her grades. She shot Malfoy an evil look from across the room. It was his entire fault. He didn't deign to notice, as usual.

She, Neveille, and Harry were the lone Gryffindors in a sea of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. As anticipated Snape honed in on them to pick on. Sneering hatefully, snapping up points like some kind of giant bat hunting mice. Midway through the class he had poor Neveille so shaky that he spilled a beacon of rats' blood all over her robes. Hermione had whipped off her robes, a sound of disgust escaping her lips before she could still it, and then winced when Snape took notice of their table, yet again.

When it was all said and done he had deducted more points from Gryffindor, made a scathing remark about her jeans, and blamed the whole incident on Harry.

The day did not get better. She didn't have time to go get clean robes before Transfiguration. McGonagall made a big deal out of the dress code and she had to leave class to run to her room to get a fresh set of Hogwarts robes. By the time she got back everyone had partnered up to review last years spells and she got landed with Parkinson. She had the transfiguration skills of a concussed mountain troll. Hermione felt obligated to try and help her do the spells properly and got her nose snapped off for her trouble. Honestly.

Then, instead of even trying to learn, the cow spent the entire double period making calf eyes at Draco.

Arithmancy was the absolute worst. None of her close friends took it. It was just her, four Ravenclaws, and one Draco Malfoy. Whom Sinatra paired with her. He sprawled bonelessly in his chair, one arm thrown casually over the back of her seat, his lower body lined up close to hers. Every time he moved he brushed up against her. They were in the back of the class and Hermione was certain that one of the students would turn around and spy them so close. But they were all bent over their tables diligently taking notes, as was she. Draco never bothered to take notes. It was one of the things that irked her about him. Sinatra wasn't blind however; he kept looking at them sideways. When class ended Malfoy had glided out the door before the other students had finished gathering their things. Easy for him since he hadn't bothered to bring anything to class.

And to top everything, she stubbed her toe stomping her way up a million stairs to Gryffindor tower. Stupid Slytherin, her studies were important, where did he get off distracting her like that? And why did he have to smell so good? Life wasn't fair. She was turned into a puddle of goo by a warm masculine scent. She didn't even squeak when he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a classroom, even though she hadn't heard him coming. That's how familiar his touch was becoming.

"You know Malfoy if you ever bothered to take notes in class you might get better marks."

"My marks are excellent." He replied dismissively, closing the door and shutting them in.

"But they could be better."

He didn't reply instead he advanced on her, a predatory quality to his stride, and Hermione was suddenly nervous, backing up a couple of steps.

His hand shot out, a blur of motion, and the clasp of her robes was quickly undone and they slid to a puddle on the floor. Hermione was so shocked that she just stood there staring.

"I don't like this outfit you have on."

Hermione tamped down on her flare of anger. She was always so quick to get irritated around him. "There is nothing wrong with jeans. I like jeans. I'm a muggle and this is what muggles wear."

"I wanted to rip Zambini's eyes out in potions. I wanted to tear his off his head and boil it in acid." Hermione gaped like a fish and let out a little peep when he grasped her hips with both hands. "He was staring at you like you were a piece of honeydukes chocolates, like he wanted to eat you alive. And he wasn't the only one. I thought Snape was going to have a heart attack. They were all looking at you."

"What's wrong with looking?" Hermione asked breathlessly, shocked by his ferocity. His lips came down on hers, harsh, a desperate edge to his nips and caresses. He molded his body to hers and slipped both hands boldly up under her loose top, his pelvis grinding into hers. He raised his head, his eyes a raging sea of grey and silver. He looked like an avenging angel, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones, his expression naked with need.

"You remind me of Harry sometimes."

He abruptly pushed her away from him and walked to the window. "Don't compare me to your boyfriend Granger. Don't use him to make this lighter on your conscience."

What?

"Malfoy! Harry is not my boyfriend! Just what kind of girl do you think I am! Do you think I would let you touch me and kiss me like this if I had a boyfriend?" She demanded, storming towards him.

He turned then, reaching her in just two short strides. In seconds he was in her personal space, pulling her body into contact with his. Her senses went haywire, shakiness and desire settling in the pit of her stomach in a way that was becoming disturbingly familiar. "Why do you let me touch you? Why do you let me kiss you?"

Because you set my senses on fire. Because I think about it in the dark. Because I crave your touch like a recovering drug addict. Because my heart beats faster just at the sight of you. Because the sound of your voice makes me wet. Because you listen to me and don't brush me off. Because conversation with you is fascinating. Because I miss you with a terrible ache when your not here. Because I shouldn't want this. Because you know me better than anyone else.

"I don't know."

He lifted her under her arms and sat her on the wide window ledge. She felt a surge of excitement when he pushed in between her thighs and ran his hands down the sides of her body. They were on the fourteenth floor, but Quidditch practice raged in the pitch just thirty feet away. If anyone looked over they would see them. It was strangely exciting and exhilarating knowing that they could be being watched. He bent his head and kissed her collarbone, her pulse, her jaw line. She sat there, hands fisted in his robes, trembling beneath his touch.

It was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Harry wouldn't be flying. Oh Lord, he pulled her pulse between his teeth, soothed the bite mark with the flat of his tongue. "Did you think about me last night, all wrapped up in silk sheets?" He whispered, his voice descending into that decadent husky tone that was reserved just for her. "That was the finest silk I could buy, but it's not half as soft as your skin."

His tongue moved over her neck, across the soft skin beneath her ear, and he pulled the lobe into his mouth. She made a helpless little sound and fumbled for the clasp of his robes, pulling it open and off in one fluid motion. His chest was bare underneath, and she luxuriated in the texture of his skin, the ripple of powerful muscles under her hands. "Did you? Think about me?"

"Yes." She whispered, a quiver in her voice, praying he left it there. His back was gloriously silky and toned, and he drew his breath in raggedly when she swept her hands firmly down to his tapered waist and rested them just above the short wizard pants that hung loosely on his frame.

"Did you touch yourself?"

Hermione groaned in embarrassment, feeling herself blush. He gave her no pause, drawing her tee up over her head and tossing it carelessly behind him. His hands were almost large enough to circle her waist completely. He ran his thumbs in a wide caress, just brushing the underside of her pale pink bra. "Did you?"

"Yes." Hermione bit out, blushing furiously, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. It was the only way she knew to shut him up. His lips were firm, gentler than before. He pushed himself closer to her, settling firmly in the vee of her thighs, and rotating his hips in a slow circle.

Her bra joined her shirt on the floor behind him.

"How was it?" He whispered huskily, boldly placing both hands on her bare breasts; His hands were large and warm, but far from soothing. He kissed her again, gentle nips and caresses, before he bent his head to her neck. His hands massaged and kneaded her breasts before he flicked his thumbs over her aching nipples, causing her to jerk in response. He lifted his head again, depriving her of his touch. "Well?"

"It wasn't as good." She whispered back, afraid to shatter the heavy silence of the room, broken only by their heavy pants and soft spoken words. She leaned back further, pressing her bare back against the cold window, pulling him along with her.

"As good as what?"

"As when you touch me."

He was kissing her then, touching her. His hands burning like fire against her chilled skin. Shuddering and gasping when she touched him back. When his hands moved to her thighs, she trembled and let out a low throaty sound that could only be classified as a moan. "You should wear silk and lace. You're skin is too delicate for this rough material."

The silence was shattered by a large bang. Hermione jumped in her skin and twisted her head to look behind her at the Bludger that had just crashed the side of the building before zooming off. It had only hit inches from the window. In a heartbeat Malfoy had her away from the window and shielded by his body as the players whizzed by the window.

Had anyone seen her?

She was half naked in the arms of one Draco Malfoy. What would Harry say? She gathered up her things off the floor, not quite looking at him and he just stood there, making no effort to dress. She slipped into her robes, a flurry of movement. She wished he wasn't staring at her.

Finally decent as one could be without wearing a bra, she looked up at him. He ghosted into her space, still bare from the waist up. He reached out and straitened her robes, adjusting the collar.

"Just what are we doing Malfoy?" She asked him, a tremble in her voice. He looked down at her, a blank expression on his face.

"You aren't going to have a big emotional moment are you?"

"Malfoy, this is serious. I don't understand how we got to this place?" She let out a frustrated sound and turned around so she wouldn't have to look into his carefully blank, beautiful eyes. "I mean, no one would understand. I don't even understand. If this got out…" But she didn't get to finish because he had grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.

She had a slow motion moment where she saw his lips descending and did nothing, before he was kissing her again. Nipping and tugging at her lips with his teeth, his grip on her arms almost bruising. She found herself pressed roughly against the wall, his body firm against hers. He bent his head and kissed her neck, soft sucking kisses that had her trembling and breathless in less then a minute. When he pulled back abruptly she nearly fell with the lack of support, stumbling a couple of steps before she managed to find her equilibrium.

"I haven't coerced you into anything. You melt into my touch like butter."

He was gone in a heartbeat, leaving his robes piled up on the floor where she had left them. She raised her hand to her trembling lips and sighed. She was so confused. And he was volatile, his mood and touch swinging the spectrum in seconds. She was in way over her head and really didn't know what to do about it.

End Chapter

_Author's notes:_

_Oh wow, I've had such an awesome response to this story. I really appreciate all the recs I'm getting. It's so flattering._

_Lots of pieces of this chapter were written separately, just things that came to me and I jotted down. I tried to make it flow together seamlessly but you'll have to let me know if it seems kind of sketchy. _

_The part where Malfoy moves Granger out of the window is supposed to come off like he is shielding her partial nudity. Not like he is wigged out because they might be seen. If it does seem that way let me know and I'll change it. _

_This chappie was mostly just filler, emotional and physical stuff, but not a lot of plot. I promise that our bad boy isn't going soft, on any one but Hermione. And there is going to be some more death eater stuff and adventure. The big plot pieces are already written, either on paper or in my head, including when everyone finds out about our couple. I can't tell you anymore without spoiling it._

_And lastly, I'm American. I'm writing the story in the setting that JK put it in and I'm stumbling along with slang, culture and logistics. I appreciate everyone's help sorting it out with me and I hope I haven't offended anyone. All of your constructive criticism is helping me to become a better writer and I've re-read my reviews many times. _

_I can't seem to get special characters to work for section breaks. I put them in but you guys don't see them, so I just tried separating the pieces with words. Hope it's not too confusing._

_Rain_


	8. A Fork in the Road

Hermione sighed and checked the time. If she was going to be ready for classes on time she needed to get up. She placed a small white handkerchief, Malfoy crest up, between the pages of her book to mark her place before setting the novel aside. She stretched languidly…loving the way the cool perfumed sheets slid against her skin. When Lavender had seen them she had squealed excitedly about some brand name and what she would do to have anything from that particular store.

She concentrated, gripping the bed sheets beneath her to prevent her hand from flicking and unraveled the wards on the curtains around her four poster. So far she was disappointed with her wandless ability. She was unable to do any spells of difficulty. And it pissed her off. Plus she couldn't talk to Draco about it because he was avoiding her like the plague. He never skipped classes, but even in Arithmancy his eyes passed over her in that way he had. That way of looking through her like she didn't exist. It cut her, like it never had before.

Because now she had remembrances of husky desperate words in her ear. "Why do you enchant me?" "Sometimes I picture you in my shirt, other times naked and golden" "I've been dying to touch you" " You're lips taste like candy" She honestly thought she might remember every word he'd ever said to her. And in the darkness of her room in the early hours of the morning she could practically hear his voice sliding over her skin, just like her red silk sheets.

But she couldn't lie abed all day and fantasize about his voice. Oh lord, she was so gone. She was one of those girls. You know the kind. That giggle and follow the boy around, making him feel hunted and frightened. But at least she hadn't been reduced to actual stalking. In fact she had spent a lot of time being angry at him lately, because all of the sudden he seemed extra good at being bad. And her friends were paying the price. But it was Friday, she only had two classes, and she had plans for her afternoon. She was going back to the shrieking shack, and getting in some uninterrupted practice.

Practice had never failed her before.

And if she was knee deep in magic she wouldn't be able to think about one gray eyed boy and his unmitigated effect on her senses.

...

Draco Malfoy hit the castle like an evil tornado this week. By Friday he had hexed three students, given out eight detentions, and made four second year students cry. That was in between classes. He was in fine form today, perfectly groomed, his eyes flashing, and his tongue razor sharp. His snide comments and sneers were flawless and exceptionally sly and cruel. He hadn't lost a single point for Slytherin.

Neville carefully avoided him.

How could he respect and admire someone, and completely hate them at the same time? He supposed it was because Malfoy was everything he was not. Popular, powerful, good looking, intelligent, graceful, talented, and quick witted. Neville especially envied his ability with a broom. It was true Harry was exceptional and flew with amazing grace and speed, but there was just something about the way Malfoy flew. Reckless and daring with a showy style that was uniquely him.

The fact was that Malfoy made people pay attention, whether it was good or bad attention was no matter, it was a skill that Neville would never possess.

But something had definitely ruffled his feathers. The guy sure swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. Just last week he had been almost jovial, teasing young students good naturedly, joking with his friends. Now he was cruel and biting, as if reminding people that he was Draco Malfoy, to be feared and admired.

So Neville avoided him. It had made him feel warm and fuzzy to have Hermione sweep down in his defense like an avenging angel, but he'd rather avoid the accompanying humiliation if possible. Sasha joined him at their table, followed his gaze, and shook her head. She reached under the table and squeezed his knee reassuringly before asking him about his morning classes.

But it did not seem as though the Slytherin Prince was ready to let the afternoon settle down into peacefulness.

"I caught your tryouts this morning Potter." His cold drawling voice rang out across the hall in a way that was meant to carry. "Sorry about you're dismal luck, I've never seen such a despicable waste of airtime."

Harry held his head high, kept his eyes forward and obviously intended to walk by without acknowledging the snide comment, but Ron ruined Harry's dignified exit by spinning around. "Are you insulting my sister?" He snarled, hands clinched, face getting redder by the second.

"Now don't worry Weasley," Malfoy began, holding up placating hands, "I'm sure she'll get on the team. She is after all shagging the captain. And I've been told that is where her true talent lays."

Harry managed to hit him first, in a room full of teachers. Neville was at the right angle to see Malfoy immobilize Harry's arm with one hand, and punch him brutally in the stomach with the other, twice. The teachers were not at the proper angle and did not see.

They swarmed over the fight like ants on a hill, handing out detentions like decrees of justice. Points melted from the Gryffindor pool. Malfoy was escorted to the hospital wing, even though it was clearly obvious that he was unhurt.

Slytherin points remained unblemished, and Malfoy received nothing worse than a dirty look from McGonagall. No one doubted that he had started the whole thing, but no matter how nasty his words were, fighting was not tolerated.

It was only after everything had settled down, and long after Malfoy had been dismissed, that we discovered that Harry's rib was broken. Hermione did not take it well, and Neville did not envy the Slytherin when she found him, not at all.

Hermione knew where the Slytherin common room was, after six years here, she knew where all the common rooms were. She wasn't sure if it was common knowledge or not, but she knew a lot of things that other people didn't and took it in stride. She did not however know the password. They changed constantly. She knew the password to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Ravenclaws were too clever to let theirs slip and Slytherins were too sneaky.

But Hermione wasn't above standing in the shadows until a couple of first years came along, and then barging in behind them into their commons. If she had been anyone else, Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, any other Gryffindor, she had no doubt that her uninvited entrance would have caused an immediate uproar, culminating with her being tossed unceremoniously out on her ass. However she was Hermione Granger and her appearance in the dungeon was greeted with shocked silence and slack jawed staring.

Draco Malfoy was sprawled in an armchair by the fire, his head bent over his potions text book, his hand busily writing. He was the only person in the room who didn't look up. He paid her no mind, just like he had all week. The bruises on his knuckles stood out in sharp relief as he gripped his quill too tightly. The red hot rage that had come over her at learning that Harry had been injured by this idiot did not lessen at the sight of him. If he had looked up at her, given her his slow sexy smile, she might have been distracted. But to continue to ignore her added insult to injury and she was not in the mood to be trifled with.

She didn't even realize that she was crossing the room until she had knocked the book from his hands and spun his chair to face her. She knew her face was probably blotchy with rage and didn't care. She didn't care if she shouted and everyone heard her. She didn't care what a damn one of them thought. Hermione considered herself to be good with words, spoken and written, and didn't care that she sounded like an uneducated shrieking banshee…that is how mad she was. "YOU BROKE HIS FUCKING RIB, YOU YOU YOU SLYTHERIN!"

"Wow Granger, you look really mad. Do you kiss your mum with that mouth?" She grabbed his robes and shook him violently, bracing her feet so she didn't tumble into him. She was off balance, and completely open to attack, but he didn't even try to shake loose from her.

"YOU EVIL BIGHEADED SELFCENTERED EGOTISCAL PRAT…I CAN'T BELIVE YOU! HOW DARE YOU!"

"I don't suppose you bothered to care that Potter assaulted me first…" He drawled and she pulled her hand back to smack him. To smack that aloof, collected, look from his aristocratic features. She was so mad she couldn't breathe, and he looked…smug. He had to see it coming a mile away, and didn't even raise a hand to defend himself. But the blow never connected. Instead she tumbled to the floor, hard, having been hit with a large solid object that after further observation turned out to be Pansy.

They scuffled for a moment, while Pansy writhed on top of her, trying to get her hands free to hit her, before Hermione managed to flip and pin her, arms behind her back, legs spread eagled and trapped beneath her own. Her struggles were ineffectual but her screeching voice penetrated Hermione's skull, starting a low dull ache. "You keep your filthy mudblood hands off of him, you psycho…It's bad enough that you think you own the school but now you barge in here…you big haired freak!"

"Hush up Pans." Draco said, not unkindly, as he gripped her arm and pulled her up off the other woman. Pansy scrambled to her feet, her arms bruised and her hair pulled half out of her ponytail. Her eyes were aglow with a fanatical light. Hermione looked on in horror and realized that she had been acting just like that. Draco stood by her side, his hand on her arm, standing so close that parts of his body were touching hers. And everyone was looking at them…"You alright?" He asked, and she realized he wasn't talking to her, he was talking to Pansy.

"I want her out of here now!" Pansy screeched, stomping her foot and lunging as if she was going to attack her again. Hermione started to drop into a defensive stance but Draco was pulling her behind him and she realized that he was right and fell into step. She lowered her eyes so she didn't have to meet anyone's gaze, and wished she could lower the volume control on her ears because Pansy was still stomping around and screeching loudly. At least Parkinson's apparent insanity overshadowed her own moment of uncontrollable anger.

"She's Crazy!" Hermione burst out the moment they were outside in the hall.

:"She's Dangerous Granger, don't challenge her, especially on her own territory."

Hermione snorted and looked up at him. "It didn't take me five seconds to render her harmless. The worst she gave me was a splitting headache. To top everything else."

"Walk with me." She fell into step with him, and instead of going up the hall he led her further into the dungeons. She started to open her mouth, words about Harry on the tip of her tongue…but he spoke first. "Pans is unstable, I wouldn't push her."

"Unstable how?"

"It's really not my place to say, but Pans has had a rough home life, a lot of social problems, she doesn't have the best coping skills, and sometimes she compensates by taking stimulants…it's gotten worse this year.

"You mean…Drugs?" Hermione was completely flabbergasted. She hadn't even considered that kids at Hogwarts might actually be doing drugs.

"That's what the muggles call them, isn't it? I trust you won't go blabbing this around."

"But Malfoy, we should tell a teacher! She could hurt herself or someone, she needs help."

He spun on her suddenly, his eyes a cold slate grey. "Hogwarts has a no tolerance policy, they'd send her home, not help her. You're not going to tell anyone. I've got it under control." He resumed walking, a brisk pace that had her almost running to keep up. "Just stay away from her, she gets very mean sometimes."

"But Dumbledore…"

"She's in Slytherin, not Gryffindor."

"Draco, Dumbledore cares about all the students, the ones in Slytherin too…"

"You don't understand it Granger. You're all goodness and light and fairytales and kids in Slytherin learn early that this isn't a fair playground."

Hermione stopped and stamped her foot angrily. "Don't give me that stupid boy line Malfoy. Telling me I don't understand prejudges…hello, mudblood here remember. My entire family is in hiding and I'm here staring all of you down just for the right to go to school here, just for the right to live."

"You're not staring me down." He said quietly, turning to face her, his features solemn and serious. "I don't think like that."

"But you don't stand up against them either." The last word broke on a sob and she ruthlessly sucked in ragged breaths…refusing to cry.

"Everyone has the right to their opinions Granger. You can't holler about freedom in one breath and scream that believing in Pure Blood is illegal the next."

"So you agree with them! You think that killing and torturing muggle-borns is alright!"

"I never said that I thought that breaking the law was alright. Murder is wrong Granger, and they should be punished for it." He ran one hand wearily through his hair and turned his head with a sigh. "I'm just saying, that freedom means that the evil guys are free too. Free to think and say what they want."

"You know things; you could help us stop the killings, and Voldemort." She said in a soft whisper. Her voice trembling on the name that Harry insisted that they use. Malfoy just grasped her arm and led her down a side corridor to a small room and closed the door behind them. There was a torch burning somewhere in the darkness. It didn't offer enough light to see more than the shadows dancing across his face.

"I've already told you Hermione. I'm not Harry Fucking Potter. I'm not one of your saintly Gryffindor pals. I intend to survive this war, preserve what's left of my family name, and protect you. I can't do a damn one of those things if I'm dead."

"I'm not asking you to go out with you're wand and hunt death eaters. I'm just saying you have information." She said bravely, ignoring his declaration that her safety ranked so high because that was something that she'd rather think about in the privacy of her own thoughts. "Surely, letting us know a bit here and there wouldn't get you killed."

He was silent for a long time. She found herself counting his slow even breaths, mesmerized by the fire dancing over his pale skin. He was so close to her…Closer than he'd been in forever…

"Malfoy…" He cupped her face in his hands, running his thumb over her lips. He hadn't touched her in days and it shocked her how quickly her heart sped up, how fast her body responded to his nearness.

"They aren't careful with you. They send you down into dungeons, and evil forests, and bloody battles. Every time I turn around they offer you up like some sort of virgin sacrifice to the cause." His voice was hoarse and sketchy, she'd never heard him sound like that and if she didn't know better she'd say he was on the brink of tears. "The bitter truth is that you can't save them all, so if I tell you of muggles and mayhem and plots, those boys will have you knee deep in it. And your luck will run out, and there will be a beautiful service where they'll speak of your bravery and your beauty. They'll have flowers and speeches, and your parents will be there. But Draco Malfoy won't be invited or included. So I'll sit on the sidelines, just out of sight and mourn you when they've all walked away to fight their war…"

"I intend to help win this war. I'm going to fight by Harry's side, I'm going to do everything in my power to bring Voldemort down, and I can do it a lot better if you help me."

He kissed her then. One of those desperate kisses that left her robbed of breath or thought or strength in her knees. She found herself pressed between the rough stone wall of the room and Draco's rock hard body and thought it was a good place to be. His whole body trembled against her, and he clutched her too tight, and yet he felt so good that she didn't care that she would probably have bruises in the morning.

"You must know by now I can deny you nothing." He whispered raggedly against her neck, clutching her to him like she was his lifeline in a raging storm. "So ask me to die for you, ask me to kill for you, but please don't ask me to watch you walk into danger."

"I can't stand aside Draco. It's just not who I am."

He pulled back and cupped her face again. He wiped the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks drying her silent tears. "Promise me something." She nodded wordlessly. "Promise me you won't go anywhere without me."

"I can't."

"I know." He kissed her again. A soft press of lips that left her mouth bereft when he pulled back. "The wolf, Lupin, he's being held at Crabbe's manor house in Luxemburg. In the dungeons. They're hoping it will lure out Potter the way that Black did." He took a deep breath. "Tell Dumbledore about it. It would be total foolishness to try and get him out yourself, no matter how much luck Potter has."

...

Authors Notes:

In the wake of HBP this story has become AU. I've never followed cannon completely and will not be changing my plot to accommodate HBP. The basic plot was planned before this came out. That's why it's fanficion.

Okay, Ranting done. I know it's been forever since I've updated. My muse has been on vacation, reading HBP, and spending freakishly long hours at its horrendous job. I got some amazing reviews though and had to sit up late tonight to finish this chapter.

I love Possessive Draco too; he is more than welcome to be possessive of me any ole time he wants.

Thank you all for your compliments. I did put a lot of work into the conversation about their families and I'm flattered that you guys noticed. I also had some questions about the martial arts. Yes I do practice. And it is slightly out of character for Hermione to be so into it. She's a bookworm who isn't into sports or exercise. But in my story she was physically assaulted and was looking for ways to take control of her life. Learning to defend herself is one way of doing that. Learning wandless magic is another. I really can see her doing this, because Hermione takes nothing laying down, that is why she is so cool.

I had some people who were concerned about Draco's behavior at the end of last chapter, I probably shouldn't say because it gives some things away, but his feelings were hurt. Hermione is frantic at the thought of anyone finding out that she's gone slumming and it would hurt anyone's feelings.

And I know I through some big things in here, and just kind of glossed over them. Pansy is taking wizard drugs, Slytherin feels discriminated against, Draco is some sort of closet freedom fan…but those things are second to the plot. I'm just trying to add to the whole illusion breaking open to a harsher reality than Hermione imagined. Hogwarts is no fairy tale, and Draco is no prince, and she is just beginning to realize that. Because no matter how smart she is, she is just a young teenage girl. Also I have no idea how long this fic will be, some things are planned vaguely, some things aren't, so I just don't know. Till I get sick of writing I suppose.

Well I'm on pins and needles to see what you think so drop me a line and tell me I suck or it rocks or something…


	9. Pushing Back

The music was haunting and hypnotic at the same time.

Hermione made her way down the creepy narrow passageway to the shrieking shack, hoping that it was Malfoy at the other end and that no one else had found their little hideaway. She pushed open the door and let herself into the now spotless little room, and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Malfoy sitting at a beautiful white piano. His posture was as perfect as ever, but his head was bent causing his long blond locks to fall into his eyes. He must have transfigured the settee. She had never realized how good he was at Transfiguration. How come he never came out as well as she did in McGonagall's class then? Were the other teachers really prejudiced against the Slytherins? Now that she was looking for signs, it certainly seemed like it.

His hands flew across the keys and Hermione set down her bag, digging out her Wandless Magic book. She ought to think of another name for it, but it was untitled and she wasn't really all that creative. For lack of a better place to sit, she inched closer to the piano, wondering how much she could get away with. Malfoy continued to play, not looking up from the keys, though she didn't really doubt that he knew she was there. She waved her wand, creating a small step stone in the air and climbed up onto the piano, stretching out on her stomach. She laid her book out in front of her, bending her knees and hooking her feet at the ankles. She gave Malfoy a sideways look out of the corner of her eye, but his face was serious with concentration and his eyes were downcast.

The sensation of the piano vibrating against her tummy was the oddest feeling. It made her whole body tingle. The music was beautiful; creating a cacophony of sounds around her and her book was fascinating. She couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of contentment as she turned the page. The song he was playing spiraled down and the last few notes hung in the air after he had stopped playing. "Do you sing?" she asked, looking up from her book.

"No," he replied a little too shortly, a little too sharp. Once she would have been instantly annoyed, but now she just wondered what had happened to upset him today.

"Can you sing?" she asked, letting an impish smile out, unable to hide the amusement in her voice. He looked up at her then, silver eyes stabbing through her, to her soul. But then he softened somehow, and a small smile turned up at the edge of his mouth as well.

"Yes."

"Play another one?" she asked and he immediately began to weave music again, another tune, but just as evocative as the last. Hermione wondered what the words were, or if there were any words at all.

Over the last several weeks they had fallen into sort of an uneasy, habitual schedule, if it could even be referred to as something that formal. Life went on as usual, studying and classes. Quiddich practice and time with the boys. But they found their moments. They would meet at the shrieking shack, or in abandoned classrooms to practice wandless magic. At some point in the evening, after her run, he would fall into step with her. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would exist in comfortable silence but these were fast becoming her most cherished moments of the day.

She opened her book to the last page and brought out a piece of folded parchment, opening it and reading it to herself silently, searching for the flaws amongst her own neat cursive. It had to be perfect or it would reflect badly on all muggle-borns. These people were that critical.

Change needed to happen. There were so many laws and policies that contributed to prejudice. So many people who didn't realize what they were endorsing with their narrow minded thinking. But how was she, one sixth year Hogwarts student, going to effect change?

In the end, she decided to start where she had experience, and branch out from there. The basic root of the problem was ignorance, and that was true of both sides, because Hermione wasn't really sure why purebloods hated Muggles so much. The library proved enlightening as always. But only with the history stuff. She read books written about why it was so important to keep Wizard-kind a secret and incidences where Muggles and Wizards had clashed. But there wasn't really all that much literature about why the war had started in the first place.

So she asked Malfoy about it. It quickly became clear that he was very uncomfortable with the subject. She wheedled and nagged, begged and prodded, and got nowhere. Until, she kissed him. They kissed under the tree in the garden she'd come to think of as theirs. She pushed up on her toes and brushed her lips over his. "Please Draco, I need to know, I need to understand this…"

So he told her about some of the things he had been taught growing up. Not necessarily just from his father, but from Aunts and Uncles and Cousins. It sounded more like tales of the boogie man than facts, but she supposed it would have made a child cringe. It was a little harder to draw out tales of propaganda he'd heard at parties when he was an adolescent.

He quickly became irritated when she would ask questions about pureblooded beliefs. "Malfoy, it doesn't make any sense that muggles are less intelligent." She had commented as she walked with him, cooling off from her run yesterday. "I mean, look at all the inventions and innovations muggles have come up with to make their lives more comfortable without magic. Electricity, cars, computers…have you ever used a computer?"

"I didn't say that they were less intelligent, Granger and I didn't say it made sense, I just said that is what I was told," he had replied wearily, falling back on the defensive, as he was often likely to do when they talked about this. She could hear the forced patience in his tone, as he struggled not to snap at her and say nasty things. Some days, when she was being particularly difficult, he really had to work at being civil. She was deeply moved that he put up the effort, she knew for a fact that he didn't do that for anyone else. His clipped, measured, condescending tones made her feel cherished and special. He turned her life upside-down; it was a specialty of his.

She started by passing out pamphlets. Just simple informative leaflets that detailed the propaganda of the enemy and outlined reasons that it was unfounded. But it didn't seem like she had much circulation here at Hogwarts, so she contacted Mr. Lovegood and asked him to run an article in the Quibbler. She was very pleased with how it turned out, despite the official looking disclaimer at the top and bottom. She was surprised when loads of letters and howlers started plaguing her day and night. She'd certainly not gotten such a response from S.P.E.W.

Within days she had quite a subscriber list and dozens of letters of protest that she took time out each day to answer. She was really giving the school owls a workout. And it was increasingly becoming a bigger and bigger project. She had started having to ask for help, which she hated, and didn't have much luck finding. At least Malfoy was always willing to proof read and add his opinion. Snarky, mean spirited opinions…but honest ones. She didn't know why, but she was actually surprised that she didn't get any support from the boys. Ron was too scattered in his interests to have time, and Harry had sadly shook his head. "It won't do any good, Hermione. You won't change generations of bigoted thinking with a few brochures."

But she couldn't give up. This was too important. Even if most of the attention she was getting from her little newsletter was negative, at least it was getting attention. Which was more then she could say before it started. So it was important that the spelling, grammar, and facts were all correct. It was important that the letter went out on time. She didn't have an official publication date, but so far she had been sending out her literature on Wednesdays and she was certain that people had come to expect it. She couldn't be late. That wouldn't speak well of her or what she had to say.

"How's your Wolf?" Malfoy asked quietly, interrupting her train of thought. His fingers slowed into a ballad, hitting lower keys, creating softer music.

"Dumbledore says that he will be fine. We got to him before any permanent damage could be done." She replied, smiling up at him, even though he wasn't looking at her. She had heeded his pleading and gone to the Order instead of Harry and Ron. Harry didn't need to be falling into their trap. Besides, Draco was right. The adults needed to handle this one. But she knew the time would come when she would need to stand by Harry again. Maybe Malfoy would stand with her, but even if she needed to leave him behind, she knew this battle wasn't over. "Thank you, again."

He didn't reply to her thanks. He never did. Instead, he struck a few more notes before holding out one elegant hand for her parchment. She passed it over wordlessly, rolling over onto her back to await his verdict. Somehow what he thought was just as important as any reader she might have. He was, after all, the ultimate pureblood…and she cared what he thought of her. She hated to admit that, because she knew she was giving him the power to hurt her. "All this stuff about comp..u..ters and Tele…visions doesn't make any sense, Granger. You should just describe their purpose. Something like, _Despite__ the inability to produce magic, Muggles have discovered very clever ways of making their lives more comfortable. They use Tele…visons… for… _well, whatever they use them for, I suppose." She took her paper back and frowned.

"You're right. I didn't explain any of this stuff. How shortsighted of me." Her frown deepened. It wasn't like her to overlook something so blaringly obvious. "I'm just so tired. Harry's been on my case to cut down my study schedule, but I'm taking all advanced classes…"

"Something has got to give, Granger," he said absently, plucking out a few keys, shaking his head and redoing to same sequence, shaking his head again. She wondered what was wrong with it. It sounded fine to her. "You've added to your schedule. Wandless magic with me, this whole newsletter thing…you've got to cut back somewhere."

"Society for the Tolerance of Ordinary People"

"What?"

"S.T.O.P. - Society for the Tolerance of Ordinary People. I can't just call it that newsletter thing. And I was careful with my acronym this time. Everyone gave me an awful time about S.P.E.W."

He nodded. "So what is tele…vision?"

"You're saying it right. It's a monitor that projects recorded actors doing scenes. Kind of like theatre in a box. I've got a couple of movies on my laptop I could show you. I warn you though, they're chic flicks."

"You know, Granger," he said, looking down, suddenly very serious. She sat up, her breath stuck in her throat. She'd seen that look before and she'd never liked what he'd had to say. "This newsletter, S.T.O.P. it's beginning to attract some unsavory attention. You aren't making any secret of who you are and I know for a fact that it was a topic at last nights meeting."

"You mean a Death Eater meeting?" she asked, aghast, sitting up and crossing her legs.

"No, my mothers quilting circle. Of course a Death Eater meeting."

"Well, that's good isn't it? I mean, the word is getting out. People are paying attention."

She jumped when he slammed his hand down on the piano beside her. "No, it is not good, Hermione. You are making yourself a target. Do you really think that these people will take this lying down?" he hissed at her, his eyes lit up with anger. "I want you to lay off for a while. Take some time off, start it up later with a pseudonym, use a more secure method of distribution."

"You arrogant ass!" she answered back, not really able to sort out her anger at his imperious command. She wasn't his slave. He couldn't tell her what to do. "I am not going to stop writing! I don't care if people don't like it. It's kind of my point isn't it? If I wanted to gain popularity I'd write a gossip column."

"There is a reason people are afraid of Death Eaters, Granger!" He stood up, breathing hard, obviously trying to control the level of his voice. "We aren't talking about reforming a bunch of petty thieves or tax evaders. We are talking about murders, rapists, ruthless killers that wouldn't think twice about hurting you. Killing you."

She slid to the floor so he wasn't towering over her so much. "Well I am afraid! But I am not going to take their tyranny lying down. Some overgrown, immature, bullies aren't going to silence my voice." She knew she was shouting and she didn't care if there were people in the street who might hear her.

He grabbed her shoulders and she didn't resist when he gave her a hard shake. "Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? I'm serious about this, Granger. I want you to stop this for a while. Take some care with your own safety! There are other people to consider." He was shouting too.

"Please," she snorted derisively. "I couldn't be anywhere safer. Everyone knows that Hogwarts is the safest place to be nowadays. So don't give me that."

"You'll leave eventually; Christmas break, summer, and if you aren't careful, they will be angry enough to be waiting for you. And I don't care how good you are at magic, wandless or otherwise. There is strength in numbers and I hardly think those muggles you live with are going to be much help to you!"

The sound of her slap hung like a reverberating gunshot in the sudden silence. They stared at each other, breathing hard. Hermione felt instant remorse; she couldn't believe that she had struck him. She reached out a hand to touch the angry mark she'd left on his pale skin but he jerked away from her touch. And it felt as though he had slapped her back. He had never pulled away from her touch before. He turned without a word and left. She stood there for a long time before she gathered up her things and left as well.

* * *

He had been looking for her for ages. He'd tried the library, all the classrooms, the Gryffindor tower, and the grounds. He was on his way back to check the library again when she stormed into sight. She was so pretty despite her wild mass of curls. "Hermione! Wait up!" he called, when she brushed right by him. She stopped her frantic walk and waited for him to catch up to her before taking off at the same breakneck pace.

"Where were you?"

"Library," she replied shortly, her face turned away from him and her head bent as if she was thinking about something else.

"I looked for you there!" he said, and she finally turned to him.

"You were looking for me?" Her little upturned nose was so cute.

"Well, yeah, I wanted to talk to you." Ron could feel his ears turning red and hoped she didn't notice.

"Can we talk later, Ron?" She was backing away from him. "It's just that I have a lot to do tonight. My Transfiguration and my S.T.O.P newsletter…" She turned around and walked away. And he stood there watching her. He wanted to stop her. Ask her to tell him what was wrong lately. She was distant from them. She spent just as much time with them, helped with their homework, and discussed Voldemort…but it was as if she didn't need them anymore. As if she didn't depend on him. He felt like a big part of him was missing, without that subtle dependence.

He started to trail after her, but a sound caught his sensitive ears and he turned down a darkened hallway. As he grew closer, he recognized the sound of a girl crying. He pushed open the old classroom door, stepping into the darkness. "Are you ok?" he asked, and the girl tried to stifle her sobs but was unable to curb the heart wrenching sound. He walked closer and knelt down. He didn't know what to do or say, but he couldn't just leave Pansy Parkinson crying alone in the dark. He reached out and touched her shoulder and found himself with an armful of bawling female.

* * *

Hermione bashed her fists into her punching bag with a mad fury until her limbs were so weary she couldn't lift her arm for another punch. She collapsed in a heap on her floor and scrubbed angrily at her wet face. She was so tired of crying. She hated to cry. But lately she was so emotional. She lay there for a long time, her sweat cooling on her body. Her bag was slowly waving to a stop above her. She watched it with a sort of vacant fascination, like she sometimes watched daytime television. When the Patil sisters burst into their dorm room giggling and carrying on, she hauled herself to her feet and stomped out. She didn't bother to transfigure her bag back into her chair. She didn't bother to say hello to her friends. She didn't bother to get her wand. And she didn't bother to change out of her workout clothes. She did however snatch up her diskman.

Several people said hello to her on her way through the common room and she gave them brief, tense nods. She was just so sick of Malfoy. He did whatever and said whatever he wanted. He picked on her friends, insulted her heritage, terrified younger years, and sneered at everyone. Then he thought he could tell her what to do, closely followed by a slur on her Muggle parents. "I hardly think those Muggles you live with are going to be much help to you!" she mocked under her breath, in her best imitation of the Malfoy drawl. Arrogant, pureblooded, bossy…words failed to describe how…cocky…he was. And she felt awful about losing her temper and slapping him. She would be willing to bet her beloved copy of _Hogwarts a History _that Malfoy wasn't sitting around feeling bad about yelling at her.

She took a deep breath, shuddering at the chill in the air, when she stepped outside on the grounds. She took a moment to redo her sloppy ponytail before popping her earbuds in and pressing the power button on her player. It hadn't been too difficult to modify the spell on her laptop to work on her diskman, and she liked to listen to music while she ran. The steady throbbing beat of _I Believe_ filled her ears and her feet fell into motion. The slap of her tennis shoes on the grass was strangely comforting, the need to regulate her breathing steadying to her nerves. But her run was pathetically short, having exhausted herself with her temper tantrum earlier.

She pulled her ear pieces down in a silent acknowledgement to his presence when Malfoy fell into step with her, but refused to speak first. So they walked to their tree in a silence only broken by the buzzing of her earbuds, around her neck. He stopped walking first, jamming his fists into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "I won't apologize." She turned angrily, ready to take up where they left off, but he wasn't finished speaking yet. "I'm not sorry that I care about your safety. I refuse to apologize for telling you to take a little care, if not for yourself than for the people who care about you. I know what I'm talking about, Granger."

Well, when he put it like that.

"Draco, I can't stop this. It's important to me." She wished that hadn't come out like she was asking for his permission. "I'm sorry if you disagree, but I won't quit writing my newsletter."

That sounded better.

"Can't you put it on hold? Start writing under a penname in a few months?" His hands came out of his pockets as he stepped closer to her.

"No," she lifted her chin defiantly. "I want everyone to know that Mudblood Granger is writing it."

He cupped her face in his hands and her breathing shuddered to a stop for a moment, before she forced herself to start drawing breath again. Draco had really backed off on the physical stuff. In the last several weeks they had shared several deep, wet kisses, but he always stopped before things got too heavy. As if he knew that she hadn't really been ready for the scene in that old classroom. She found herself thinking about having him between her thighs that day, their shirts off, and his sweet soft touches more than she cared to admit.

"Don't call yourself that." His voice was low and harsh, his lush mouth inches from hers.

"You did!" she quipped, trying to lighten the suddenly very intense mood. But his face darkened at her words and his hands fell away from her face.

"I was a twelve year old child, repeating something I'd heard on impulse. I'd like to think that you know me well enough to know that I've grown up enough to think for myself now."

"I didn't mean it like that, Draco." she said softly, stepping closer to him, causing her body to brush up against his as she looked up at him. Other than that one kiss under their tree, she hadn't initiated touching between them. She always let him lead. But he had backed off and she was beginning to think that he was waiting for her to give him some sort of green light that other girls her age probably knew all about. But she was just horribly naïve Hermione and had no idea to let him know that she wanted him to touch her without reserve.

"I am sorry I shouted at you." Draco Malfoy apologizing! Would wonders never cease?

"I'm sorry I slapped you," she replied softly and a small sideways smile turned up at the corner of his mouth. That half amused look on his face that was just for her.

"Which time?"

"You arrogant…You know which one," she huffed. She certainly felt no remorse for slapping him over Hagrid's Hypogriff. That was for sure and he knew it. His hands slid possessively over her hips, to her bum and he pulled her closer. A kiss on her cheek, one above her ear.

"Why did you slap me?" he whispered in her ear, taking the delicate lobe into his mouth. She sighed and relaxed her body against him.

"You were being an ass."

"So you've said." He kissed her neck, once, twice. A hand skimmed up her back to her ponytail and pulled the tie out, causing her hair to fall messily around her shoulders and her back. He sucked gently before going back up to her ear. "Is it alright that I'm touching you like this, Hermione?"

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly, wrapping her hands around his biceps to keep on her suddenly shaky legs.

"Because I'd like to touch you more," he murmured against her neck, between soft, wet kisses from her ear to her shoulder. She let her head fall back in silent acquiescence to his touch, but it wasn't enough apparently, because he pulled back from her. "I don't want you to run away this time."

"I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes never left hers as he pulled her closer, fitting his body against hers. She reached out hesitatingly, running her hands up his chest over his shoulders, pulling him closer, lifting her chin in invitation. He didn't disappoint her, kissing her full on the mouth for long endless moments. It surprised her how completely she could get lost in the feel of his lips and tongue, in the slow sensual way his hard body moved against her.

The restraint he'd practiced recently was gone, his hands were as bold and possessive as ever, running over her hips, pulling her closer, rubbing his erection against her suggestively. It said something about how close she felt to him that she felt only mild embarrassment when he ran his hands underneath her loose United Nations tee-shirt and caressed her bare skin.

He left her lips and trailed wet sucking kisses over her neck, growling against her skin, in a way that made her shiver. In minutes she was twined around him like a ribbon crying out at every brazen caress and kiss…and then he stopped.

"I'd better get you back to the castle."

"Wha…huh?" Real articulate Hermione. Let him know his kisses make you tongue tied. Good going girl. "You want to go back?"

"Yes, it's late and getting chilly." He stooped to pick up her diskman that had dropped to the ground at some point.

"Oh," She took her diskman from him and turned abruptly for the castle, hopefully before he could see the hurt on her face.

He jogged a second to catch up to her, grabbing her elbow to get her attention. Damn it, why did he have to be so observant? She didn't look up at him, breathing deeply to keep tears at bay. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Baby? Whatever. He obviously found her repulsive and he wanted to know what was wrong. "Nothing." She answered and kept walking, considering listening to her diskman instead of talking to him.

"Are you angry at me?" He asked, stubborn idiot.

"No."

"Damn it Hermione! What is your problem?"

"Don't yell at me!" She snapped back, giving him a glare and then softening at his obvious confusion. "I just…Why did you stop? Didn't you want to…I mean…um?" She put her head down, her face flaming. Oh God! This was so embarrassing!

"Yes." He answered, pulling her back into his warm embrace. She buried her face in his chest, grateful to be able to hide her tomato complexion. "But not out here, in the cold, on the hard ground. Rushed and worried about getting caught."

"Oh," that was so sweet!

"At least not the first time."

"Malfoy!" She slapped his chest halfheartedly but didn't protest when he gave her a little nudge to get her feet moving.

* * *

A/N

Just a quick thank you to my beta readers. Lorett and Brooke! Thank you so much for taking your time out to read this through and make comments. My readers should thank them too because without their motivation this might have sat on my desktop another three or four weeks while I worried about the details.

Also a huge thank you to all of my faithful reviewers. You guys are so awesome, I am getting such a huge response to this story. This particular chapter was heavy plot. I have to get Hermione and Draco from here to there but I'm setting up for some more emotional plot pieces that I have planned out. My next chapter will probably include some smut.

I love those animated pictures that people do, just wondering if anyone is interested in doing one for this story. I'd really like to have the piano scene in a picture. I promise to update sooner.

The next chapter of Jealousy is almost done; I'm working on it tonight even and have sent part of it to a Beta Reader. A huge huge thank you and much kissage for everyone who voted for me on Dangerous Liaisons. Big Wet Sloppy Kisses. You guys made my week, month, year…I'll probably be glowing about my win for a long time.

Rain


	10. Study Date

Please be aware that this has been edited for this site. I took out large chunks of adult material. If you are of age and would like to read this chapter in full you will have to do it over at The link is on my author page.

Thanks,

Rain

* * *

Hermione made a frustrated sound as she flipped through the pages of Lobensteinski's _Foul Fowl and other Loathsome Beasts_, even though she knew darn well the information she needed was not in this book. She had a rather impressive personal library, her parents never having denied her any book she might desire and as you might imagine she had developed quite a collection over the years. However between sharing a room with three other people and the difficulties of hauling books from home and back again, she was forced to leave the majority of her texts at home. She just knew the Humberback Sneak was mentioned in _Phoenix's and other Rare Abstruse Creatures_. But that book was snug at home and she was at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts library was extensive, but it was also closed this late at night.

"What's wrong Hermione?" Asked Harry, without taking his eyes off of the chessboard. It was just the three of them in the common room, everyone else having abandoned the cheery room for their beds long ago.

"Do you recall the average wingspan of the Humberback Sneak?"

He did turn to her then, raising one dark eyebrow. "And you need to know that why?"

"Well I've covered other aspects of its appearance in my essay; if I don't touch on the wingspan my information will be incomplete and sloppy. But the wingspan isn't in this book and I'm not sure if it was 9' or 12'."

"What I mean to say is why are you writing about the Sneak in the first place Hermione? We haven't even covered it in class."

"Well Harry we did cover Libercusps and Platernicks, both of which are preferred prey of the Sneak. In fact if it weren't for the Sneak we would be literally run over by cusps since there aren't any other predators who really hunt them and they breed so quickly. You can't really speak intelligently about the Libercusps and not touch on the Sneak…maybe I should read your essay Harry."

Harry, in a rather dramatic display of irritation banged his head on the table three times before turning around to face her. "Hermione, this is exactly what I'm talking about. It's three o'clock in the morning! You spent half the night doing your newsletter and now you are staying up late to write about Sneaks when the essay is about Messonicks. How did you get from Messonicks to Cusps?"

She opened her mouth to reply but he barreled right over her. "I know your schoolwork is important to you Hermione but this is ridiculous. You aren't going to be able to keep your eyes open in the morning, much less learn anything. Go to bed right now!"

She knew that he was just concerned for her. She knew that.

"Hello Pot, I'm Kettle. Why is it different for you and Ron to be up?"

"Because 'Mione, we taped our eyelids open to stay up with you. Would you please go to bloody bed so I can sleep." Ron snapped standing up and reaching across the table to close her book. She sputtered indignantly, opened her mouth to tell her friend where he could stick it, when once again Harry interrupted her.

"Could we postpone this argument till in the morning? I don't have enough energy to keep up with one of your infamous rows."

Hermione gaped like a fish for a moment before gathering her books together and stomping upstairs to her dorm huffily. They had it coming. In the morning she was going to lay into them about being so overbearing. No one asked them to stay up with her. But after her argument with Draco that afternoon and everything else on her plate she just didn't have the energy to put them in their place properly. The moment that Harry had said the word 'bed' it was like heavy lead weights were dropped on her eyelids and she was suddenly feeling her exhaustion. She'd gotten increasingly less sleep as the days went by. There was just so much to do.

She stripped down to her T-shirt, sliding her bra out from underneath it and crawled between her luxurious sheets as quietly as possible. She didn't want to wake anyone. It was too dark to see more then the outlines of the hangings around her bed. She stared up at them for a while. Was Draco asleep? What did he wear to bed? She closed her eyes resolutely. Maybe she could find out more about the Sneak in a library book tomorrow. She was obviously slipping. First her S.T.O.P newsletter earlier and now forgetting simple basic facts. It was a miracle she wasn't flunking! She turned and burrowed into her pillow.

The key was organization, she needed a tighter schedule and she needed to stick to it. Harry was right. She had only planned on working on her newsletter for forty-five minutes and instead had edited for two hours. She was just so inefficient. Her essay was due in three days and was incomplete. She wouldn't have time to work on it tomorrow because she had other commitments. She had needed to finish it today. She was so behind…This was ridiculous. She was never going to be able to sleep until she finished that essay.

With a sigh she scuttled out of bed, pulled on her Gryffendor sweater and a pair of faded jeans. She tucked her wand in the back pocket of her jeans more out of habit than necessity. The cold metal of her dragon pendant against her bare chest offered her literal cold comfort in the dark. She could channel more magic through that small piece than she could ever accomplish with her wand. Raw unfocused magic, hard to control magic, but powerful magic that could knock an enemy on their ass.

It was the gift of safety and Hermione cherished it above all of her other possessions.

She left her feet bare and silent and her book-bag behind. The air was chilly in the unlit corridors and the creaks and groans of the castle sounded unfamiliar in the quiet. She made her way down flights of stairs and took a shortcut past the room of requirement, ears open for any hint of Filch or teachers…and still jumped out of her skin when Draco stepped out of the shadows and into her field of vision.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? A little lost Gryffendor." He leered at her in a way that if she hadn't known him she might have found alarming. As it was, she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling up at him. "Jumpy little cat aren't we?"

"Malfoy, its way past curfew! What are you doing out here? You could get caught!" He ignored her words and snaked into her personal space backing her up against the wall.

"Out and about, no one to protect you, at my mercy." He continued, pressing his body flush up against hers and looming over her in a very impressive way.

"I've got you to protect me." He visibly shuddered at her words before bending slightly to kiss her properly. He tasted mint fresh and clean, he smelled like warm soap. Like he'd just washed. Perhaps he had been using the Prefects bathroom? She twisted her foot around his leg and gathered his body closer, fisting her hands in his midnight black robes and rubbing her body against his creating delicious friction. She wasn't quite experienced enough to know why but she did know that she loved the feel of his hot hard body sliding up against her soft curves.

He hiked her up a bit, a murmured "Open your legs" whispered in her hair and pushed himself firmly between her thighs. Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips to keep her balance and found herself in a shockingly intimate position. She let her head fall back against the wall as he placed soft wet urgent kisses on her neck and shoulders. "Want you, want you so bad," and rotated his hips against her center in a way that was unmistakably sexual and sensual. Hermione had never watched porn or read many smutty books. She had checked out a number of clinical books with facts so that she would be prepared, but the reality of a full size, warm, living, breathing, kissing male was not something that she was prepared for. Despite all her learning she was probably less versed in the reality of making love than her peers would be in her situation. "My Lord you taste so sweet."

But it was Draco. She wanted him and trusted him completely.

So she made a low sound of desire and surrendered her body up to him willingly without a second thought about it. She'd known for some time now that her first time would be with him and there was no time like the present for that to happen. "I think about it all the time. Your scent and your taste and how it'd feel to be inside you." He was sucking on her neck, cupping her bum to support her, grinding his pelvis against her relentlessly. She couldn't help the small sounds of pleasure he wretched from her and didn't even try. He shifted her weight to one hand and fumbled with the door handle of the room of requirement for a moment before getting it open, stumbling inside and slamming it shut with his foot.

He let her slide to her feet. Reaching hands up to cup her face the way he liked while he kissed her. Fingers sliding into her hair, down her neck, across the curve of her spine to the hem of her loose sweatshirt. He pulled back to look in her eyes as he inched the heavy material up over her stomach. She lifted her arms like a small child and allowed him to pull the sweater over her head in one fluid movement. She couldn't help the small shiver of delight that coursed through her because of the way his eyes darkened with lust, the low sound of desire he made, the slight tremble to his hands when he skimmed them under her tee and over her bare middle.

Suddenly his focus wavered from her and he did a sort of double take as he noticed the room around them. "What the? What happened to all the DADA stuff?" Hermione stared at him blankly for a minute before pulling herself out of her Draco induced stupor to look around them.

The room had transferred itself into an ornate bedroom, complete with huge mahogany bed. Candles littered every surface creating a soft glow, there was wine chilling in a bucket of ice, there was even a large sunken Jacuzzi. "What do you mean, DADA stuff?" She asked stupidly, absorbed by the detail the room provided, right down to the deep plush carpeting and seascape paintings.

"This is where Potter used to have those anti-Umbridge meetings." He said absently, leaving her side to examine the wine. "1956! I wonder who sleeps here?"

"No one, this is the room of requirement. The room will change to accommodate whatever the person in need requires. We found out about it from Dobby."

"Hogwarts thinks that we require a lush Sultans exotic playroom?" he asked, a rare note of incredulity in his voice, turning to face her, arms out sarcastically.

"No." She replied. Suddenly shy and embarrassed. But she gathered her Gryffendor courage around her like a cloak and continued to look him in the eye, even though she knew a blush stained her cheeks. "The room doesn't work that way. It provides what we want. So one or both of us must have felt we needed this." She had to look away at the end because his eyes had turned speculative and sly, a small grin gracing his full lower lip. He looked…predatory.

"I do think you need the candles, and the wine, and the atmosphere. I want to make it perfect for you." He said softly, suddenly much nearer to her, she hadn't even heard him move but when she looked up he was only a hairsbreadth away from her. "And I want you to tell me what you want."

"I want you to kiss me." She whispered softly and he bent slowly, brushing an almost gentlemanly, closed mouth kiss over her lips. It would have been gentlemanly if it wasn't for the look in his eyes.

"I want you to touch me too." She murmured against his lips, stepping into his space, pushing her body up against his lithe form.

That was all that it took to send him spiraling into passion, taking her with him.

* * *

Hermione woke with a start, a sense of unease bringing her to consciousness. Something wasn't right. Memory crashed over her like waves of shock and she grinned goofily for a moment. Malfoy was sprawled beside her, in all his naked glory, his head pillowed on her tummy, his arm thrown carelessly over her thighs.

She allowed herself the luxury of running her hand through his silky locks. She was his…lover…surely that gave her hair stroking privileges. She should ask him if he knew the wingspan of the Sneak. She still needed to get that essay done, and there was no telling what time it was. No amount of charming could get her muggle watch to work properly. He grandfather had given it to her and there was no way that she was going to replace it. So the hands spun uselessly and every time she went home she had to buy a new battery.

Did this little episode make them a couple? Surely sex where the man professed how much he cared and called her perfect repeatedly constituted some sort of relationship. She didn't think that she could bear it if he pulled his cold ignoring her act that he had done after every other major milestone in their weird relationship over the years. Sex was huge, at least for her. She hoped he agreed with her. After all there were risks involved…

Her stomach dropped out and her heart stopped beating. She hadn't cast a contraceptive charm. And she wasn't on the pill.

Oh God.

How could she be so stupid?

What if she was…was…she couldn't even say it in her own mind.

She wiggled out from under him, trying to jar him as little as possible. Jeans, shirt, where were her panties. Oh well, it didn't matter. She shimmied into her clothes in a cloud of panic. She needed to get to the library right now and figure out how soon one could check for pregnancy with a spell.

How could she be so stupid? She couldn't believe herself.

She hadn't realized that Malfoy was awake until he sat up and grabbed her hand, yanking her back on the bed. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I have to go to the libr…" he cut her off, coming to his knees and kissing her on the lips. She was almost distracted, kissing him back helplessly but then she remembered why she was leaving and was almost sick. She pulled back from his insistent kisses sharply. She couldn't believe she had been so short sighted. This could be a disaster. He was relentless pulling her back up against him and kissing her neck, running his hands possessively down her back. "Malfoy, Draco, Wait! What if I'm pregnant?"

He pulled back and looked at her strangely. "Infedel Contraceptus. I'm flying in neutral." He leaned in and kissed her neck. "Until I cast the counter charm."

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief and asked him in a small trembling voice. The relief flooding her system making her body weak and shaky. "You're absolutely certain?"

"What? You don't want to have my baby?" He asked, completely deadpan. She met his eyes and almost screamed in frustration. He had on his poker face and if her life depended on it she couldn't have read him. She hated that carefully blank look.

"Not nine months from now!" She snapped. He leaned in and kissed her, a twinkle of amusement entering his eyes. "This isn't funny Draco."

"How about in a year?" Hermione tried to school her breathing and her wildly beating heart. They had never once discussed a relationship. Never in all their conversations and confrontations and heated encounters. Draco had never once brought up a future. Even now, in bed with him, she really had never had any indication if she would ever touch him again.

"I'm going to go to medical school." He laughed his soft husky chuckle that she loved so much and pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion. Rolling smoothly over her and pressing her into the pillows so he could kiss her neck again.

"How many years will you be in medical school?" He was nibbling his way down her collarbone and relentlessly attacking the buttons on her jeans. His breath was hot on her neck and his lips seemed to be everywhere, she was having a lot of trouble focusing on the conversation.

"It depends on the school, and what you want to do." He pulled back from her, looking at her seriously like he sometimes did.

"What is it you want to do Hermione?" Like he honestly wanted to know. Sometimes she just didn't know with him.

"A healer." She answered solemnly. "For diseases of the mind." He cracked a small sideways grin, eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight.

"Is that so you can deal with me?" She grinned back at him reaching up to push a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

"I don't think any amount of medical school could prepare me to deal with you on your best day." She frowned and looked down. She hated discussing her goals, opening herself up for criticism. Every time she talked about what she wanted to do, and it had changed many times, the boys and the Order always told her why it wasn't enough. Why she needed to use her brilliance for more. "Everyone wants me to be an Auror."

"But that's not what you want?" He asked shifting his body so that he lay beside her and toying absently with her skin. She was distracted for a moment by his sweeping hand across her stomach.

"I want to do something worthy. I want to help people. I'm thinking about medical school because maybe I could help people who've been traumatized by the war. People like the Longbottoms."

"So you're just thinking about Medical? What else are you thinking about? I think it would be worthy to just be my sex kitten."

"MALFOY! How would that help anyone?" She frowned. "There is also S.P.E.W and S.T.O.P…"

"You spread yourself too thin; you need to devote some time to relaxation."

"I know, there is just so much to do."

He ran one hand over her hips and to the buttons on her jeans. He sat up on one elbow and slipped one button out of the hole, and then the next, with a single minded, slow determination that made her want to squirm in anticipation. "Can you find the time to stay with me tonight?"

"I don't know Malfoy, the boys will worry about me…"

His face darkened in dislike, as was so often the case when she brought up the boys. "They get you every night. I'm only asking for a few hours Granger." He came to his knees suddenly, wrestling her jeans down her hips. She refused to help, staring up mutinously.

"Can't you make some effort to get along with them for my sake?"

"Where have you been all year? I haven't cursed Potter once, despite his obvious need to be taken down a peg or six."

"Malfoy!" She was ready to argue more, but he was a man on a mission and his hands sliding up her bare thighs had all thoughts of conversation flying out the window. This discussion was far from over; he would have to come to some sort of happy medium with her best friends. But right now, he was placing soft wet kisses on her bare tummy and really it wasn't like this couldn't wait…and she was willing to bet he knew the wingspan of the Humberback Sneak.

* * *

Repeating myself, for those of you who skipped the author's notes at the beginning and then complained: This fiction has been edited because there are young children who browse this site. If you would like to read the smut than you will have to read it on AFF. The Link is on my profile. Please check over there, or e-mail me. Sorry, rant over, thanks all.

Well, here it is folks. I'm hoping that the incredible length will make up for the extremely long gap in updates. There just wasn't a good place to stop. This is not beta'd and it is long. So please forgive me any mistakes you find. I read through hastily and am off to finish my fic for the Celebrate the Season Exchange. Let me know if it sucks, if I should go back to the drawing board, whatever. I want your honest opinion.

The reviews I have gotten have been so awesome, and believe it or not often inspired me to write. I get so girly and excited every time I see a new review. Dramione fans are just the best reviewers.

Since I won't most likely be updating before Christmas, happy holidays everyone and God bless you all. Hope you have a lovely time with all of your families. Oh and an extra thanks to everyone who pimped my stories. You guys rock.

Rain


	11. Should have known

Pansy casually waltzed to her next class, three other Slytherin girls in tow, ignoring their idle chatter. They would think what she told them to think, so she really didn't need to keep abreast of their opinions. Her mind was elsewhere.

She hadn't gotten spun in three days, and the effect was that she felt stretched thin and irritable. Not to mention that she had gained an appalling four pounds. Draco insisted that this was for the best, but right now she just didn't see it he was gone, off playing with his new girlfriend.

He was gone way too much for comfort lately. She needed him and he wasn't here, at least not the way he used to be. She supposed if she told him that she needed him, sent him an owl, he'd drop his lay like a bad habit and be by her side. But she shouldn't need to tell him. He should know. Damn it, he knew she was quitting this week and the third day was the hardest. Or at least the hardest so far, she had never made it to day four.

She ignored the dip in conversation when she arrived in the corridor outside potions. The reverence of the other girls in her year was, of course, her due. That stupid slag Granger was thankfully absent, but her personal entourage was unfortunately very much present. Against her will her eyes slid over Potter, bones all intact, scars in place, to Ron Weasley. She was horrified to feel a blush spreading across her cheeks, but was unable to look away. His own blush made his freckles stand out in sharp relief. Pansy turned around sharply so she wouldn't have to look at him, but she could still pick his voice out of the throng. Soft soothing tones directed at Potter, but she was unable to make out his words over the din in the corridor.

She was willing to bet the stupid sod had told Potter everything.

Parkinson women did not fidget, yet she couldn't help the wringing of her hands. She pulled a small vile out of her pocket to occupy herself and closed her eyes against the rush of heat through her body. She could feel an echo of the excitement she would feel if she opened that bottle, ingested the contents. She could taste the metallic flavor on her tongue. And suddenly she was so tired. She had so much to do today; she couldn't possibly accomplish it all without help.

Also closing her eyes had the unwanted effect of bringing memories better left buried to the forefront. Weasley touching her shoulder, letting her cling to him and weep till his shirtfront was wet with tears. Looking up into his startlingly blue eyes and seeing only concern. Him touching her face, brushing off drops of wetness. A Weasley had been the last place that she had expected to find compassion. And she had been off her game enough to accept it. Demand more from him. Take the physical comfort she needed.

Sleeping with the Weasel had shocked her into realizing just how out of control she had become. Parkinson women were supposed to be calm, collected. Lately she was a raging ball of emotions that she couldn't control. The worst of it was that it had been nice. He'd been kind to her, even during. Not something she had previously experienced with her partners. Slytherins tended to be dominating. They took what they wanted, including their pleasure. He had put her first and she hadn't known how to deal with the emotional fallout.

So naturally Pansy had keyed into her usual line of defense: ignore it and it would go away.

Unfortunately without her usual method of distraction she was finding it hard to ignore. She pulled breath in through her nose, out through her mouth. The air so thick and heavy she could barely empty her lungs. The world seemed fuzzy and dim, oppressing. And she found it difficult to stand under the weight of the atmosphere.

"Give my apologies to professor Snape," she whispered to Millicent. The girls knowing look made Pansy want to claw her ungrateful eyes from her head. "I have a small emergency to deal with."

And then she whisked off down the hall, heart thumping in anticipation, small innocent looking vile clutched in her tiny hand.

This day was not going well. She and Draco had overslept. A rarity for her. And instead of long lingering kisses and morning sex (Malfoy's evil plot not hers) there had been a flurry of cleaning charms and hair brushing prior to running to class. Having skipped her morning shower, her hair was now a mass of frizzy static laced flyaway curls that refused to lie still on her head. Looking like her bushy haired first year self, did little for her self-esteem, especially when Parkinson made several loud obnoxious comments about it.

Stupid Slag.

Malfoy had been fifteen minutes late, freshly showered, and grumpy. Poor Neville was still looking nervous three hours later. She had finally snapped and told him to leave Neville alone, which left his favorite pastime open for business. Ron Baiting.

As you can imagine that didn't go well. Ron now had bright purple hair and a surly attitude. And when she tried to gently point out that he shouldn't have taken the bait and tried to curse Malfoy, the boy took his bad mood out on her.

Well that was just fine, she didn't want to talk to him anyway. Whiny Baby.

Purple hair would have been hilarious on Malfoy, but he was particularly good at rebounding charms, everyone knew that. And now Ron wouldn't even let her fuss with his hair anymore because he was too busy sulking and complaining.

But, then again, Draco should not have been giving Ron a hard time in the first place. She had half a mind to curse his hair purple when he wasn't looking. But she had just finished telling Ron that it wasn't worth detention, and how would it look if she gave into the urge? Not to mention, aforementioned rebounding charms.

Hermione had absolutely no desire to have purple hair; her hair was atrocious enough, thank you very much.

So mood: Not Pleasant.

And now, as if she wasn't frustrated enough, Ernie Macmillan had cornered her. His timing was just as atrocious as her hair. He had never shown so much as a spec of interest in her, much like the rest of her class, and suddenly he was asking her out. She supposed she was supposed to swoon at the way he was leaning into her space and sucking up her air. Also, judging by his smug, confident look she was supposed to be flattered to receive his attention at all.

Please.

He was as big a man-whore as Malfoy. What that said about her, she wasn't sure. Perhaps she just attracted those types.

Hermione was fidgeting with her frizzy hair; trying to come up with a nice way of telling him 'no' when abruptly he was yanked back to a comfortable distance. She might have been relieved to have her space back if Malfoy hadn't been the one to collar the poor boy and send him stumbling a good two feet.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" He snarled angrily, advancing in a predatory way.

Ernie took two hasty steps back before it occurred to him that he should perhaps try to be manly to impress Hermione and abandoned his retreat. "Sod off, Malfoy. My tardiness is none of your business." She had to give him credit for backbone, because Draco looked ready to live up to his rather overblown reputation. "And if you don't want a duel, you'll keep your hands to yourself."

Malfoy rocked back on his heels and whistled through his teeth. His whole body relaxing and a familiar smirk curving his lips. "Tough talk from a guy who crashed and burned on his DADA OWL. Name a time and place."

Ernie visibly paled but opened his mouth anyway before Hermione pushed in between them. "That's enough boys. We're prefects, not first years. Ernie, you go to class, I'll handle Malfoy."

Her stern prefects voice brooked no argument but he still gave Draco an insolent look and told her he would see her at lunch before he slouched off. He'd no sooner turned the corner before she rounded on the source of her inner turmoil. Hermione hadn't known how she would feel when she was alone with him again. Just the thought of him this morning had made her lightheaded with excitement. The sight of him in class had butterflies fluttering around ruthlessly in her stomach, her breath coming far too fast.

Four hours of his mischief later and she wasn't feeling quite so fond of him.

"What the hell is your problem today!" she hissed, moving into his space so she could speak under her breath.

His light eyes seemed to catch fire in the dimness, and before she could register his anger he had grabbed her arm and pulled her into a darkened alcove. It was hardly privacy but at least they weren't standing in the open hallway. On the other hand, if someone did wander across them, there wouldn't really be a logical explanation for the two of them to be sandwiched together like this.

For all his rough handling and superior size Hermione didn't even feel a remote twinge of fear. For one thing, she knew she could take him. Wand-less magic or no, she was secure in her abilities. Secondly, she trusted him completely. Even in the face of his rage, she knew intrinsically that he wouldn't harm one hair on her head.

It was a beautiful feeling, safety.

And it calmed her emotions. There was no way she could deny being this close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his body, well, it just felt right and natural.

"What were you doing with him?" His voice was whisper soft, and yet as harsh as hers had been.

"Just what are you insinuating, Malfoy? I was having a simple conversation with a friend of mine until you decided to pull your Barbarian act. Just how am I supposed to explain this little fiasco to my friends?" She ran one hand up his chest, settling behind his neck for a moment, and then trailing down his arm. Marveling in her right to touch him. The way his eyes darkened further. The way his breath hitched.

His hand gentled on her arm, where he had gripped her earlier, but he was not kind when he pushed her back into the rough stone, getting much closer to her than Ernie would have dared. His thighs pressed into hers, his torso flush with her body, his lips inches from hers. "You can tell them whatever you like, but don't forget for one moment who you belong to."

That statement was just a little too much to process at once. "I don't belong to anyone, Malfoy." She said it a little too breathlessly to be convincing. "And what you mean to say is that I can tell them whatever I like, excepting the truth."

"Don't tell me what I mean to say," he hissed. "Tell them we're shagging, tell them you can't stand me, I don't care! What I do care about is that you seem to find nothing wrong with clandestine little meetings with filthy minded little pricks in dark hallways when you should be in class."

"Draco, you are exaggerating. I don't know what you think was going on, but it was perfectly innocent…"

"I'm not Potter, the wonder Idiot. And neither are you, so kindly remember whom you are speaking with." His hands gentled further, skimming down her arms, to caress her hips.

She couldn't help a fond smile. "Harry isn't an idiot, Draco, overly excitable sometimes, but very intelligent."

"Quit avoiding the issue!"

"And just what is the issue?" She couldn't help but notice that most of the heat had gone out of her voice. He made her feel like soggy chocolate, warm and sticky.

"The issue is that if you had any sense where the opposite sex was concerned, my ears would still be ringing from you slapping me up, down and sideways a year ago." He was breathing a little raggedly and she realized that there wasn't much in the way of hiding his reaction to her, not when he was pushed flush up against her body like this. "The issue is that you should have never let me touch you, never let me kiss you, never let me make love to you and hold your naked body next to mine till dawn."

He dipped his head and kissed her. Rough and desperate, with an edge of teeth on her lips and a strong tongue. He left her ragged and breathless and weak, clinging to him with a trust that no doubt offended him.

"But I did, and I will again."

"So you did." He kissed her again, hands pulling at her hair, cupping her face, hips grinding into hers and pressing her back tightly against the stone. Before she could really even register what was happening he had her legs wrapped around his hips, her back against the wall to balance them. He was rough and fast and desperate. He kissed her everywhere he could reach, her neck, her face, and the tops of her breasts.

Holding her steady with his hands while he rocked his hips against her. He fumbled a bit, reaching down between their bodies, tearing at the fastening of his robes, pushing her panties to the side and out of the way. She hesitated, this was crazy. But it was the way that he was looking at her that had her tilting her hips up to meet him. He looked at her like he was starving, like she was the only thing that could cure his hunger. She couldn't deny him anything when he looked at her like that.

It was different angle then before, deeper, more forceful. Certainly not something she would have ever imagined that she would enjoy. But despite her uncomfortable position, and the speed of it, there was a definite excitement in the air, a powerful feeling in her blood. She did this to him. His excitement got her excited and she found herself responding to him.

She tried to be quiet. Buried her face in his neck, bit down lightly to choke back her moans. In far faster than she would have thought she was clutching him for more than balance. Afterwards she found she was overly sensitive and glad when he finished just a few strokes later. Somehow he knew that she just needed to cling to him for a moment, catch her breath. Finally he set her on her feet, flipping her skirt down to hide her modesty before fixing his robes. She leaned up against the wall, soaking up the absorbing the coolness of the stone into her overheated body.

She couldn't believe that she had just done that.

He stepped away from her and she made a deliberate showing of smoothing her clothes and her hair. Not that smoothing her damnable hair did a bit of good. It was in worse condition than it was before. Thanks a lot, Malfoy. There was no way to go about adjusting her panties discretely and she gave him a look while she did so.

"I don't share." He said casually, adjusting his clothes with much more insouciance than she could master with a lifetime of patience. "Get to class."

"You may be my…lover…," She stumbled over the word, much to her embarrassment. She had been going for nonchalant, however her blush and slight stammer completely ruined the effect. "But make no mistake about it. No one tells me what to do."

In the space of a short exhaled breath he was back in her space, holding her arms, glaring angrily. It probably didn't do much for his temper that she obviously had no fear of him. She tried to keep from smiling but knew she was making a poor showing of it. "Make no mistake about it, Macmillan touches you again and I'll break his fucking hands. That goes for everyone else too. So if you don't want to tell people you're mine, I suggest you find another way to portray that you're off the market. Before somebody gets hurt."

Quick clicks echoed down the hall, and it took Hermione a moment to realize that it was footsteps. "Someone's coming."

"I don't care, we're not done talking."

"Yes we are." Hermione gave him a light shove, moving him back far enough that she could squeeze by him back into the hall.

It was Pansy Parkinson rushing by. Her head was down and she might not have even seen them, so intent was she on her destination. Hermione allowed herself one brief exhalation of relief, before hurrying off to class. Immensely thankful for her sensible shoes that didn't make such noise. But alas Malfoy had to ruin her escape.

"Pans, where are you going? You should be in class."

Hermione turned sharply, in time to see the other girl start guiltily. "Draco, what are you doing out here?"

"It doesn't matter what I'm doing out here," he replied, his voice low and if she didn't know better, angry. "What have you got there, ducks?"

She put her hand behind her back like a five-year-old child. Draco's hand darted out quick, as thought to grab her arm and Hermione watched in open mouthed shock while his attempt to take whatever she was hiding turned into a full scale scuffle.

He finally managed to wrest a small vile from her, earning himself a bite on his hand in the process. Pansy let out a horrified wail when he sent the vile crashing into the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Pansy flung herself to the ground, reaching out for the pieces and Draco grabbed her around the middle, slinging her over his shoulder, like so much sacked potatoes. His eyes met Hermione's across the hall, and he stood there for a moment, sharing a look with her while the small blonde bundle of fury battered her fists against his back. He gave her a small rueful smile before turning and walking away with his shrieking bundle.

Hermione pulled out her wand and scourgified the remains of glass and liquid in the hall. It must have been one of those Substances that Draco had told her about. She put away her wand and turned to go to class when Mrs. Norris slithered between her legs. "Aren't we in trouble?" came Mr. Filch's annoyingly familiar voice. "Skipping class are we?"

She gave another sigh of relief that he hadn't apparently seen the mess she had just done away with and turned resignedly.

Malfoy was going to owe her for dearly this detention.

Hermione held back a little grin then. She suddenly had all sorts of creative ideas as to how he could repay her.


	12. Darkness at the door

Draco poured warm oil onto her shoulders making her sigh in pleasure as the scent of cinnamon was added to the already pleasant smell of vanilla in the air

Draco poured warm oil onto her shoulders making her sigh in pleasure as the scent of cinnamon was added to the already pleasant smell of vanilla in the air. His strong hands swept the oil up and down her back with smooth motions and then his long fingers began to work it into her saturated skin. Her damp hair was piled up on her head and her bare body was stretched out across black satin sheets. He was equally naked and straddled her thighs. He didn't seem to care about the oil dripping all over his sinfully expensive bedding, and at this point she didn't care either. He started at her shoulders working out the kinks and knots with skilled motions. Applying just enough pressure to be relaxing without hurting her. He'd done this before, but she was too relaxed to put much effort into the small flame of jealousy that tended to rise up when she thought about who he may have practiced on before her.

Just enjoy it.

Lord the man knew how to use his hands. He moved his way down her back, kneading and rolling her flesh, using his thumbs to apply pressure just where she needed it, his other fingers to soothe and relax her. As he grazed the sides of her breasts with his long fingers her body tightened, but to arouse her was apparently not his intention and his hands moved on.

She shuddered underneath his touch and closed her eyes to drown out the sight of her surroundings, ignore the blatant recklessness of the situation. Disregard the complete and total lack of respect for rules, regulations, or moral guidelines. She closed her eyes and bought herself a few minuets of blessed stupidity where she didn't think about how easily she had ended up here, how simple it had been to ignore the little voice in her head telling her to be cautious. Forget for just a little while how much power this reckless boy had over her. Later, in the privacy of her own bed, she would berate herself; call herself nine kinds of stupid. But calling herself names wouldn't change anything. What was done was done and putting off the end was just a small sin.

In the snakes den itself, closeted away with Draco on his large four-poster, protected only by the hangings around his bed and a flimsy-silencing spell. It felt deliciously naughty. Any moment now they could be caught. Malfoy seemed unconcerned about anyone opening the curtains, but Hermione felt more secure with her eyes shut. She knew it was silly and childish, but the darkness behind her eyes soothed her all the same. Besides, he sure knew how to pamper a girl for no reason.

"I want to wash your hair," he'd whispered in her ear as they lay entwined beneath their tree, as she'd come to think of it. No one ever came here, but lying with him so intimately in the open like that always made her a bit uncomfortable. But he never seemed to bat an eye about it so she rose to the challenge and pretended that she didn't have her eyes peeled, that she wasn't listening for footsteps. She thought he must know, the way she jumped at small noises, but he never said anything.

Which was how she had found herself squirreled away deep under the castle. She'd never had anyone wash her hair before. It had been a surprisingly sensual experience. Her body bare and naked before him, lit only by candlelight. It was supposed to be romantic lighting but she hated the way it emphasized her hollows and dips. Her eyes closed as he had massaged her scalp. Expensive vanilla scented rinses massaged in, that she suspected he had bought for the occasion, as he never smelled of vanilla. His hands wet and warm on her skin, followed by his lips and hot kisses trailing down her neck to her shoulder.

He'd carefully brushed the tangles from her hair, combing his fingers through it before pushing her down onto his nice warmed sheets. Following her down with his drugging touches and insistent kisses that demanded everything she had. Touching him back she'd lost track of where she was and didn't think once of how much noise she was making or how the bed must shake. Afterward limp and sated she'd tried to get dressed; she must've been gone forever already.

"They wouldn't look for you here."

"My friends will worry if I'm gone too long."

"To hell with Potter, I've waited too damn long to get you in my bed to let you go that easy." He'd reached for the vial of cinnamon oil. And she'd found herself on the receiving end of the most blissful relaxing massage she'd ever been treated to. The only massage she'd ever been treated to unless you counted the comforting circles her mother would rub when she wasn't feeling well. This hardly compared. For starters her mother would not be bolding caressing her buttocks. Sliding his long fingers around the flesh, up over her hips and back down to her thighs. She might very well be in love with Malfoy's hands. Was that such a great sin? Surely, from a Gryffindor perspective it would be low on the list of outrageous offenses. To hell with his hands, the man himself at the top of said list, closely followed by a hodgepodge of illicit acts that would horrify her friends.

Not that horrifying her friends bothered her all that much. It wasn't hard. Poor Victor had horrified them. The desire to keep a lid on her current romance went deeper then that. Hermione had had a few muggle boyfriends. Mostly set up by her well meaning girlfriends who really felt that she needed one. At Hogwarts there was really no one to push her in that direction and she had never really had any desire to pursue a boy…so her experience was limited. These feelings of Euphoria and Desire and Confusion were new to her. New and raw and untested. There was no book to help her, no teacher to question…other than Draco that was. And she could hardly ask him to sit down with her and hash out her boiling emotions.

She just wasn't ready to share it with anyone yet. It was just between her and Draco. Something warm and special and intimate. She didn't feel ready to field questions yet, she didn't have the answers. And there would be questions. She would have to justify herself and explain this whole thing. She didn't really understand it herself. And she could hardly tell her friends that she trusted Draco Malfoy bone deep because of a feeling. Or that his touch made her feel alive and sexy and vibrant. Or that he listened to her in a way that no one ever had. Not simply to pacify her so she would shut up. He cared what she thought about. Maybe didn't agree with her, argued with her often, but he cared.

Also she and Draco had never once talked about it. He certainly had never mention anything about telling other people. She had no idea how he would feel about the world knowing he was regularly sleeping with a muggle born. Actually, the sleeping with her would probably be excused; he could laugh it off as an adventure. But she just didn't think she could bear being played down as his latest expedition. That she would be able to stand it while he treated her differently in front of his friends. This last year he had paid her as little public attention as he ever had. His war was with Harry and she had always been on the edge of that, only spoken to when she interfered. As though she was below his notice.

As much as that hurt, she wasn't ready for him to be ashamed of her.

If one could ever be ready for such a thing.

So she indulged in her naughty secret. Snatched moments from thin air and made time for him. Put the rest of her world on hold and lost herself in his touch. Took her guilty pleasure and spent the rest of her time blushing about it. It was an unsettling existence, but definitely preferable to her other options. Behind door number one: Face the world. Behind door number Two: Give him up. She'd just as soon stay in the closet thank you very much. It was warm and dark and nice in there. Just for a little while longer.

Besides, she just didn't have time for a big dramatic scene and the inevitable damage it would cause. She had school and prefect duties. She was taking all advanced classes, which ate up a very large chunk of her time. She had private wandless magic lessons with Draco, the boys to tutor, and her newsletter. Her newsletter was by far the most overwhelming part of her day. What had just started out as a simple informative piece had spiraled rapidly out of control.

She had begun distributing it at the school, but Hogwarts was already pretty enlightened. The Prophet would not be interested, of course, but the Enquirer had only been too happy to run her little newsletter on page 13. She wasn't exactly sure what happened, things had moved too rapidly for her to grasp. But pretty soon she was getting owls by the truckload. The Enquirer's distribution had tripled and she had been moved to the front page.

The boys were not happy. Especially Harry and Draco…who would be horrified to know they agreed so passionately about something. Most of her owls were not happy friendly good for you letters. She got howlers and curses and outright threats. Her mail was now received by the staff and checked for hexes before she was allowed to touch it. She had been implored by staff and student alike to let go of this silly "nonsense" before someone got hurt…mainly her.

But it wasn't silly. The fact that there was such outrage showed how important it was. These people who were sending her this awful mail believed Voldemorts' propaganda. He was powerful and popular because of that belief. If no one was countering what he was saying then they were giving Voldemort all the power. "To let evil triumph, the righteous must only stand there and do nothing." Her research that summer had shown her the truth of that, it was spelled out in history over and over again. People were uniformed and it led to uniformed choices.

She wasn't stopping with this newsletter. She wasn't stopping period. The word was getting out there, but that was only the first step. The next was getting people to take a stand. A handful of Order members weren't enough. Everyone should be getting involved. Until they were too powerful a force to stop. She was thinking about sending out a pledge form. Starting a society. Small groups maybe, with team leaders.

"Stop thinking about it." Malfoy drawled, leaving in and kissing her neck unexpectedly. "You're getting all tense again and undoing all my work."

"I should be getting back."

"Why, do you have to go over that Twit Weasley's homework? Stay with me." His voice suddenly had an edge to it that she didn't like. The sharp sting of command. He expected to be obeyed, but she wasn't one of his minions. She was his lover. And she could almost think that in her head now without blushing.

"No, I have to work on my newsletter."

This announcement had the expected, if undesired effect on him. His hands dropped to his sides and he rolled off of her onto the bed. The cooler air on the back of her thighs was as cold as the space between them now. Undaunted, she peeled herself up from the sheets onto her elbows.

"Hermione," He began, her name a weapon he was using against her. Creating an intimacy so that she would be more receptive to what he had to say. Sometimes she wondered if she would still be in Gryffindor if she was sorted today. All the intrigue and plotting had changed her on an elemental level. Malfoy thought he was clever in his manipulation, and she let him believe that to give him a false sense of security. She was just as bad as he was. "You are not being careful. This newsletter is not some game. Serious people are sitting up and taking notice, and these people are not going to just let this go."

She'd heard this all before. He didn't understand, she wasn't as naïve as he thought she was. She understood that Voldemort supporters were not to be trifled with, that some of these people were killers. It didn't matter. She wasn't backing down. She would not let fear dictate her choices and her life. She would make a difference. She'd said all of that before too. This argument was old. She reached for her jeans in clear dismissal but he pressed on. Really, Malfoy never knew when to quit.

"What precautions are you taking for your safety?" She paused, looked at him. He knew that her mail was being scanned.

"Hogwarts is the safest place I could be Malfoy, you know that. And my summers are usually spent with…people who are safe." She'd almost slipped. Said that she spent her summers with the Order. It wasn't that she didn't trust him…she did. It just wasn't her secret to tell.

"The Order of the Phoenix. I know." She opened her mouth to question him. Find out how he knew, what he knew. The things he knew were often terribly surprising. Sometimes it was terrifying to learn the amount of information they had. "But what about winter break? You keep saying you are going to visit your mum. Hermione, there is very little security there; they must know you are coming. I don't want you to go."

She might have argued his highhandedness. Rebelled against him telling her what to do, railed that she could handle herself. But the very real fear in his eyes when he looked at her in the candlelight stayed her tongue. He showed his emotions so rarely to let her see naked fear like that touched her deeply and she reached out and put her arms around him. Comfortable enough now with her right to lay her hands on his body.

"My parents are with the order. Harry will be with us. We will have Auror security to and from the headquarters. Please don't worry about me. I'm not stupid."

"I know that." He took a deep breath. "You are a confirmed target. A price has been put on your head. Dead or alive, they don't care." He hugged her back with a fierceness that crushed her. "I can't be with you all the time. You make it impossible to protect you. Why do you have to be so stubborn Damn it!"

His furious tone did not anger her the way it might have earlier. Instead his concern for her warmed her clear through to her insides and she hugged him back just as hard. The words "I love you" echoing unspoken inside her head.


	13. Taking a Side

After careful deliberation Hermione decided that she would consider Draco her boyfriend, in her own mind at least. No telling what he would say if she said it out loud. He was unpredictable like that. But it all made sense. They weren't seeing anyone else, saw each other almost everyday, and were sleeping together. So even if he had never taken her hand, looked into her eyes, and asked her to go steady…it didn't change the fact that that was exactly what they were doing. To be honest with herself, it would have been nice to be asked, to have some sort of verbal declaration. But even in her wildest imagination she couldn't picture Draco Malfoy getting all dewy eyed and asking her to be his. He simply took what he wanted.

Which she had to admit was nice.

Hermione took her education very seriously and it turned out that Malfoy was an excellent teacher. It was nice to have her … overzealousness… appreciated. At least in that regard Malfoy was incredibly vocal about how she made him feel. So explicit in fact that even thinking about it now made her blush. He seemed to like it when he made her blush. Sadistic bastard.

Hermione wished she could have had more time to enjoy this new and exciting part of her life. But instead her days were clogged full of complications. Harry was on pins and needles waiting for the other shoe to drop. Three and a half months into school and still no evil Voldemort plot. He'd taken to attempting Legitimy on her and Ron. He said if he could learn how to do it, he could learn how to defend against it. Which was all well and good, but left her with an awful headache. And heartache. Any day now he would master the technique and he would know.

It wasn't that she didn't want him to know. On some level it would feel good to come clean to her friends and family. She wasn't ashamed either. This thing with Draco was no silly fling and wasn't going away any time soon. But this was all so new and unexplored. His feelings still cloaked in mystery. She knew he cared deeply about her, she just wished he'd say so. She could barely sort out her own feelings; she just knew they were powerful and overwhelming. The way she thought about him all the time was overwhelming. She just wasn't ready to talk about it. And if there was anything her friends and family were good at it was talking.

On the other hand she wanted Harry to hear it from her.

He knew there was something going on. Had asked her more than once if she needed to talk about it. Told her he'd be there for her if she needed him. She thought he might even know it was boy trouble. Sometimes Harry could be freakishly intuitive. But he had his own troubles and didn't pester her. She was well aware Ron wasn't there for him like he used to be and tried to fill the gap. But she knew hanging out with her just wasn't the same. She loved the boys, was part of their three. But she had always known that Harry and Ron were close in only a way boys could be. That she would always be just a little outside their group. She could live with that.

She was worried about Ron too. But nagging was getting her nowhere. And she felt a little guilty about insisting on knowing where he spent all those hours away from Gryffindor tower, when she had her own secrets. She would have left it alone, but he wouldn't meet her eyes when she asked. He was losing sleep, falling behind on his schoolwork, and last week he had missed Quidditch practice. Something was wrong, and she couldn't help if he didn't tell her. Somehow she didn't think it was run of the mill teenage problems, or he would have told them.

Maybe he had told Harry.

It just seemed so crass to lay her worries on Harry when he was already so burdened. He too was losing sleep, practicing Hexes, Counter Curses, and Blocking spells. Dueling with him had long ago ceased to be fun. But her Mediwitch spells were on the rise. They could hardly go to Madame Pince every time someone was knocked out. Long gone were the days when Harry went on the Offensive with the Jelly Legs Curse. Now he wasn't satisfied unless someone was unconscious.

She was grateful he didn't ask her to be his Ginny pig for any of the newer nastier curses he had been perfecting. She worried so much when he would slip on his invisibility cloak and sneak under the cover of darkness to the restricted section. The lure of the dark arts was powerful but she was more worried that he would get caught than be swayed. Speculation was rampant these days and Harry had long ago proven he was not above suspicion. Repeated savior of the Wizarding world he might be, but everyone loves a villain. Thus Malfoy's overblown popularity. Or Voldemorts for that matter.

Thinking about Malfoy made her scowl and flip her page with a little too much vigor, causing Harry to give her a look from the corner of his eye. Dumbledore had intervened and asked for Snape to reconsider having Harry in his advanced potions class. The teacher had deferred without argument but to say this years classes had not been pleasant would have been a massive understatement. Harry didn't want her drawing any attention to their table with her unnecessary noisy page turning. She gave him an apologetic half glance and he looked down at his book. Gryffindor had lost so many points this year that they were in last place, and eerily close to going negative. For a year that hadn't included an assassination attempt on Harry, that was unacceptable.

It's just that Malfoy was making her so mad. He wouldn't let up about quitting S.T.O.P. She had thought that he at least understood, and he said that he did. But he still wanted her to quit. He kept saying how dangerous it was. How he just wanted her to take some concern for her safety. She was concerned for her safety. She was concerned for her parents' safety. She was scared for her friends' safety. Ironically enough she was terrified the most about Malfoy's safety. After all his home base was the snakes den itself.

Granted her Hate Mail had spiked to massive proportions, it was now delivered directly to the headmasters office and checked for Hexes before she received it. Also granted, some of the threats she had received sounded pretty serious. But this was a war, and she couldn't stand aside. Besides she could take care of herself. Did he think her completely incapable?

Yes she was just barely 17. But she had faced Voldemort, Snape, the Ministry, and bigoted racists for going on six years now. And if he called her Naïve one more time she was going to slap him silly. She didn't care how pretty his face was. So not only did she have a million and one worries, what little time she did spend with Draco was clouded over with his paranoia. They fought about it almost every day. Not to mention how busy her schedule was. Prefect duties, homework, S.P.E.W, S.T.O.P, wandless magic lessons, Her Transfiguration thesis, training with Harry, Jeet Kune Do,…the list just went on and on. There was no time for sleep; much less to fight with Malfoy.

She shook her head irritably. She didn't need to be so distracted. Advanced potions required her concentration. This class was important. Perhaps she should make a small mistake on her Polyjuice potion. Snape really never did believe that Harry hadn't stolen the Bloomstang skin from his private stores back in second year. A perfect potion would make him suspicious. Of course, she rarely made mistakes and a mishap might make him more suspicious. Except that he probably believed she was too goody two shoes to risk her grade. Heaven knows he wouldn't be lenient. He made every opportunity to shoot her down hurt as much as possible. Insufferable Git. As if she didn't have enough to be worrying about.

She decided against sabotaging her potion. No force on earth would ever make Snape believe anything but the worst about Harry. And as fun as it would be to plant a seed of doubt in the professors' mind, it certainly wasn't worth her grade being diminished. So she began chopping her ingredients carefully, methodically, and quickly.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione started guiltily, almost losing a finger and looked up at Professor Snape. He was leering over her table, hands on hips, a look of utter disdain on his features. As was to be expected.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

She hesitated a second, trying to figure out what unforgivable mishap he had zeroed in on. Her table was neat and orderly, her ingredients organized, she hadn't been talking or sneezing or breathing too hard. "Chopping up my Fizzleweed professor."

She tried to keep her voice as respectful as possible. But he looked horrified by her response. And angrier if at all possible.

"That isn't a Hogwarts issue blade Miss Granger. Would you care to explain where you got that weapon?"

She looked down at the incriminating piece of hardware in her hand. Long, sharp, with a curved blade and a tapered handle. Really, what on earth could be wrong with using a more serviceable knife? It was hardly any more weapon than any other knife her hands. The man really was quite barmy.

"Well, the Hogwarts blades are heavy and kind of dull. So I transfigured mine to make it easier to handle. I'll put it back when I'm finished professor."

"And I suppose you expect everyone to be impressed with the foolish fancy chopping you are doing. My class doesn't need to be interrupted every five minutes with bleeding students because you don't have the sense to chop properly."

Really, she wasn't in the mood for this today.

"I'm not chopping any different than I do everyday. And I've been using this knife all term. I think after six years of potions, without a single injury, I might be considered halfway capable." She huffed angrily and tagged on a belated "Professor."

That came out much more irritable that she had meant it to. She spared Harry an apologetic look, but he hadn't looked up from his book. She hated this class. The whole of Slytherin was snickering at her openly, and her fellow Gryffindor students were too afraid to even watch her humiliation because they might lose more house points. She deliberately did not look Draco's way. Not because she thought that he was snickering, but because she didn't want to see the carefully blank look on his face. She hated that look. "Besides, if you are so concerned about interruptions to your class, how does that correlate with the constant harassment of Harry and me?"

Her mouth was certainly running off without her brain today. She really needed to get more sleep before a potions class, if she was going to be up to tolerating Professor Snape.

The professor gave her a cold, mirthless smile. Completely at odds with his tight features and jerked his thumb at the door. "See your head of house before your next class Miss Granger."

She huffily climbed to her feet, and began stuffing her things in her bag. Sometimes she really hated Snape. Against her will her eyes drifted to the back of the classroom. Malfoy was sprawled carelessly in his seat while Blaise Zabini chopped and diced their ingredients. He wasn't laughing. But the raised eyebrow he directed at her, and small sardonic curve of his lips was just as bad. Sometimes she really hated Slytherins period.

He'd never realized how slick skin was when it was wet. Perhaps her skin was slipperier than the average because it was so damn soft. He had to grip her harder than he usually would have, to get a firm hold. Dig his fingers in to get a good grip. She didn't seem to mind. Her dripping hair was plastered to his neck, twined with his own. Her pretty face buried in the crook of his neck. Her harsh breaths were in time with the sound of water sloshing over the edge of the tub, peaking with each deliberate thrust of his body up against hers.

He wanted to say her name.

But he knew she wouldn't have that. And he'd be left alone to clean up the mess in the bathroom. If he kept his peace, he would get to lay with her on the floor, run his hands over her exhausted body, and breathe in her scent. Maybe she would tell him her troubles. He knew talking about it helped, even if she wouldn't cry. The crazy thing was that he was one of maybe three people who knew about her dilemma. And one of those people was her mother. Sometimes it scared him that he knew her so very well. He thought it scared her too.

After all, Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson could hardly be considered friends.

No matter how often they shagged. No matter how often she unburdened her soul to him.

No matter that he knew her hopes and dreams and spent every waking moment thinking of her. Every sleeping moment dreaming of her. Even when they were apart he could barely focus on anything else. Her taste was on his tongue; her scent was in his nose. Maybe this wasn't love but it sure outshone whatever jealous longing he had for Hermione.

Maybe it was obsession.

Pansy let out a lower pitched moan, clutched at his back almost painfully. She was close. A blessing, because the feel of her silken skin sliding up against him like this had him close to the edge. He didn't think he could hold out much longer.

"Please…" Panting.

He wished he could see her face; she was beautiful when she came apart in his arms. She was beautiful all the time. Then she was clawing at his skin, begging for purchase, rocking almost frantically, and whimpering. There was nothing to do but hold on and feel…Merlin…He hoped she had finished.

He panted for a few moments, gathered his breath before pulling back to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her head laid trustingly on his shoulder as she caught her breath. Her skin was lightly flushed, her hair plastered to the side of her head. He held back a sigh of relief. Ending things prematurely was not only embarrassing, but had a side effect of Pansy storming off in a huff and avoiding him for several days.

Once he could trust his limbs not to betray him he slid his grip to her bottom and heaved her up enough that her long legs wound around his hips before climbing the stairs out of the tub. He spread her out on the fluffy rug in front of the door and followed her down. In her current lethargy she made no complaints and even adjusted her body to fit his more comfortably, slinging one damp thigh over his. There were other times, especially in the beginning she had been outraged at the very thought that he might want to actually spend a few minutes outside of shagging at her side.

Sometimes now she didn't mind. But you could never tell when those times might be.

It was weird how he didn't mind the silence. He could lay here with her for hours just listening to her breathe. He had in fact lain by her side for hours while she slept, unable to close his eyes, not wanting to waste his precious time with her. Today was not destined to be a day for Pansy gazing. Being in the prefects bathroom meant they didn't have uninterrupted hours to lie about. Class would be letting out sooner or later and people would want in.

It wasn't a day for silence either because within minuets of laying down Pansy broke the peace.

"I think Draco might really be serious about this girl he has been seeing." Ron hated talking about Malfoy. But he was her best friend and she was worried about him. Besides he knew if he shot down talk about the ferret she would be up and out of there in a flash. She was very protective of the maggot. "He spends all of his time with her, and hasn't even glanced at another girl in months. I've never seen him so distracted. With everything that is going on right now he doesn't need to have his head full of some bimbo."

He hated the way she almost sounded jealous. She had said they were only friends.

"Have you managed to figure out who she is yet?"

"I don't think she's a student. The way he's been lately it wouldn't surprise me if he followed her around like a lost puppy. No. The little tramp must live in Hogsmeade or something."

He bit his tongue. He really couldn't see Malfoy dating a tramp. Not as snooty as he was. She would have to be just as stuck up and conceited.

"Maybe it's someone he shouldn't be seeing. So he's hiding it."

She frowned thoughtfully. Surely she must see the disturbing parallel. But if she did it went unmentioned.

"I bet you're right. If she were a Witch of Good Standing he'd just propose. His mother's been shoving available young girls down his throat all year. She's just furious with him because he won't even court any of them; much less consider them for marriage. Last summer he spent most of his time dodging dinner parties and business meetings. I would've never believed Draco could be so good at avoiding notice if I hadn't seen it myself. At the time I figured he just wanted to make Narcissa mad…but now…well it would certainly explain why he won't even admit there is a girl."

"Maybe he has a boyfriend." He trailed his fingers over her arm delighting in the satin smoothness of her skin.

"Don't be daft."

His heart swelled painfully at the unexpected fondness in her tone despite her seemingly harsh words. He ruthlessly pushed the warm feeling away. That way led to trouble.

"If you haven't seen her, he hasn't said anything, and there is apparently no plausible evidence…why are you so certain that he's seeing someone serious?" She shifted languidly, sliding her leg between his, and dipping her finger into his bellybutton. Pansy had a thing for his bellybutton. For the life of him he couldn't understand it.

"Well there is definitely someone, because there is always someone. It can't be a student though because girls always brag about shagging him. There's been silence for months. Well not exactly silence, everyone is speculating. But there's something different about this one. Something is different about him. I've never seen him so distracted."

"But he could be distracted by anything…what makes you so certain it's a girl?"

"He smells like her perfume all the time, he doesn't bother to wash it off. Half the student body is blatantly flirting with him and he just smiles indulgently and walks away. He stays out late and comes back rumpled and disheveled. Draco is NEVER disheveled."

"So he's got a girlfriend. Big deal. I don't see why you are so concerned about it."

"It is a big deal. You don't understand what it's like to be rich and powerful like the Malfoy's. Beautiful women have been throwing themselves at his feet since he was old enough to smirk. Matrons thrust their virgin daughters at him. Old maids fan themselves and twitter when he walks by." Spoiled Git! It made his stomach roil uncomfortably just thinking about how everything was handed to that Berk.

"Don't make that face. His ego isn't over inflated. He's in demand and he knows it. Not that a little humility would hurt him any. Girls have never been more of a pleasant diversion for him. If one doesn't do it for him, there are always a dozen more lined up to take her place. I've never seen him dally with one girl longer than a few months. This thing has stretched out since before the summer. Something isn't right about it or he would have told me. It's not the girl that bothers me, it's the secret."

He nodded thoughtfully, thinking of Hermione. Always sneaking around, keeping to herself. She hardly talked to him anymore except to harp about his schoolwork. She even dressed him down last week for missing Quiddich practice. As if she gave two figs about Quiddich. Something was going on with her, something more than that stupid newsletter. And the newsletter itself was going to get her killed. Not that she paid any mind to her safety, despite what happened over the summer. He was hoping his mum could talk some sense into her this weekend.

Pansy's leg slid deliberately and provocatively upwards. She trailed slim fingers around his navel and then slowly up his chest, giving him a mischievous look. Merlin, she was insatiable. She knew he'd need a while to be ready for her, but if he could change the subject off of Malfoy he might even be able to indulge her in another whirl around the sun…she certainly knew how to get him excited.

He opened his mouth to tell her how dead sexy she was when a harsh banging on the door had them both jumping in their skins.

"PANS! Open this door right now. I know you're in there!"

This was what happened when you spoke of the devil.

Not giving her a chance to answer, dress or open the door he continued to bang relentlessly. "I'm counting to five Parkinson and then I'm coming in."

She exchanged a startled glance with him and frowned when he ran his eyes around the bathroom. There was no escape. He could hide, but his dignity wouldn't allow him to hide from Draco Malfoy. He shrugged helplessly and she grimaced clambering off of him and scrambling to find her discarded things.

"Just a minute Draco, I'm not dressed." She called. He climbed more slowly to his feet watching her features. She didn't look as panicked as he had thought she would. They were in fact without a doubt caught. She seemed to be more concerned about finding her knickers than shutting him in with the towels. He snapped the button on his jeans and pulled his sweater over his head. He felt strangely calm too. It would almost be a relief to have this thing out in the open finally. She pulled on her top, not bothering to button it before running over to the door and opening it slightly to peer out into the hall.

Oh. So that was her plan.

Not that it worked, Malfoy was his usual overbearing self, pushing his way inside and slamming the door closed with his foot. He took in the room in a glance, gaze sliding over him as if he were a towel rack. He hated to acknowledge, even to himself that he was impressed with the stalwart and indifferent way that Malfoy reacted to the situation.

There could be no doubt what was going on but he didn't fly off the handle the way Ron had expected him to.

"A Weasel Pans?" Malfoy rolled his eyes expressively before dismissing him completely. "How am I supposed to defend your erratic behavior to the teachers when you can't even be bothered to come to class?"

"It's just Muggle Studies, and everyone knows you have Professor Wentworth in your pocket." Malfoy crossed his arms and sneered down his nose at her. Ron found himself crossing his own arms defensively. If the little rodent thought he could intimidate Pansy with that look he was mistaken. She was known for her composure. Malfoy glanced in his direction, gaze heavy with disdain.

"Well Pans, if they didn't know they will now that you've spilled the beans in front of the Gryffindor Gossip."

She crossed her arms under her breasts as well, he liked to think she was just trying to keep her shirt closed, and straitened her posture. No matter how strait she stood, her 5"2' stature meant that both he and Malfoy towered over her. As if he should talk, Slytherins were the worst gossips in the school.

"Oh, I've spilled the beans! How about airing out my dirty laundry to Hermione Granger?"

"You allowing yourself to get caught red handed and my bailing your sorry ass out of trouble are hardly the same thing."

"I was not caught. If you would have come up with a suitable lie we would have been fine." She huffed. She actually huffed. He had never pictured her as a huffy sort of person.

"Hermione Granger is not some dim Hufflepuff Parkenson. You're crazy if you think I could have told her it was a switching potion. And after that little catfight you started the week before, she knew how unstable you are. Now I told her we could handle the problem and she promised not to go to the teachers so long as it was being handled. How am I supposed to keep her nose out of things when you don't go to class?"

Ron pinched himself discreetly to see if he was actually conscious or if this was some weird drama his brain had produced while dozing in history of magic. For some reason he had expected some big evil showdown when Slytherins quarreled. Dark magic, unmentionable curses, and ominous voices. Somehow run of the mill squabbling that you might find in the Gryffindor common room coming from these two seemed obscene. Also obscene was the blatant way that Malfoy ignored the evident carnal nature of the episode that he had interrupted. Granted that Slytherin was a den of immoral iniquity but even the great and powerful Draco Malfoy had to be horrified at the very concept of inter-house canoodling.

"Just tell her to mind her business! You were never shy about telling her where to stick it before."

"She doesn't scare so easy anymore Pans. You should even be able to see that."

There was something about his features. A smugness that was unexpected. He ought to be scowling; infuriated that Hermione didn't cower at his feet. It was a very Un-Malfoy moment and it was slightly unsettling. Pansy zeroed in on something weird as well because she uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips. She tossed her head and her eyes took on a familiar defiance that made him breathe easier. Her voice came out chill as a winter storm. "It's none of her business. Lie to her."

Suddenly Malfoy lost his cool. He went from casually indifferent to psychopath in a heartbeat and lunged at her. She squeaked and jumped back but he was too fast and grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. Ron sprang to protect her but she cried out for him to stop and the sound of his first name on her lips stunned him into motionlessness. "She's right Damn it. And Damn you too for making me agree with a Gryffindor!"

He took a shuddering breath, visibly attempting to calm himself. "You need help, and if my help isn't enough…"

"Just stop Draco. I wasn't doing anything. I haven't for days. You have to trust me."

"Because you've been so trustworthy? Apparently you're sneaking around doing all sorts of unsavory things." Malfoy leered at him sideways and he glared back, doing his best impression of the cold indifference that the other boy seemed to be so good at. Whatever the ferret saw in his face seemed to give him pause and he put his attention back on Pansy pushing her away from him a little too roughly.

"Pansy that isn't the whole truth. We both know you've been slipping more often lately."

"I've been clean for three days. Yes I slipped. I'm trying my best Draco." She put a shaky hand to her face and before he realized what he was doing he stepped closer to her, touching her, offering her physical comfort. He was as shocked by his own behavior in front of Malfoy as he was that she didn't push him away. Instead she leaned on him for a heartbeat before standing up straight and raising her chin.

"Before that it was two weeks. I'm getting better. Not that you're around to know. You are too busy running around with your new girlfriend to give a damn about me and my petty problems."

"My fucking girlfriend is none of your business." He snarled and the change in him was shocking. He went from fairly in control to a snarl of rage in a heartbeat. But the weird thing was that his fury didn't seem to be directed at Pansy.

She was right. Something was off with his love life. Not that Ron gave a flying fuck. Or that he had any room to talk. His own love life was a ragged mess.

Pansy obviously thought so too because her mouth fell open and she clasped both her hands over it to still the loud squeal she let out.

"Oh Holy Merlin! You're sleeping with Hermione Granger!"

"Perhaps we should dismiss your plaything and extrapolate on your wild theories in company that won't get me killed."

She let out a shaky laugh that didn't fool anyone and started buttoning her blouse.

"You're right. That's ridiculous." She began to straighten her hair. "We need to be getting out of here, classes will be out."

The tension was diffused as easily as that, and Malfoy smiled at her. Ron pushed down a hot rod of irrational jealousy. That easy friendship with her was something he would never have. Why in the world was he doing this to himself?

Hermione Granger sat anxiously in her seat, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles were white. The seconds ticked by silently, her damn watch hushed until the end of term. She placed her heels more firmly into the floor to keep from jogging her legs up and down. She was prone to fidgeting and wanted to be taken seriously.

Finally Dumbledore looked up from the paper in his hands, laying it gently down on his desk and looking at her kindly.

"You haven't been in the practice of getting my approval for your plans in the past Miss Granger."

"No, but this is hardly a house elf movement professor. Actually I'd like the support of the Order which is why I came to you."

"Your honesty is refreshing. Always has been." He sighed and handed her parchment back to her. "You have this very well planned out; I of course expected no less of our star pupil."

"Now tell me what isn't on paper. Why should the Order invest man-hours into this dangerous proposition? Why should we encourage involvement of the common person in a society that could very well get them killed? And why should I let an inexperienced student who is barely of age to head the whole movement?

Hermione flinched slightly. She hadn't expected him to welcome the idea with open arms but that was a bit harsh.

"There is more than one war being fought right now. The Order of the Phoenix is standing up to Voldemort. We are holding our own in that war. We will defeat him. But there is another war. A war in the hearts of the people. We have to educate the populous. Or there will be another war, another Voldemort. We have to stop the cycle."

"Standing aside and cowering in our homes doesn't make us safe. It only makes us vulnerable. People are trembling in fear, afraid of what they don't understand. Terrified of saying a name. Being fed propaganda from a mad man who is an expert on extrapolating on those fears."

"And the Order of the Phoenix is only a handful of people, operating in secrecy, hounded by the ministry, and really stretched to their capabilities just keeping a step ahead of Voldemort."

"Muggle-borns outnumber purebloods 2 to 1. If we stand together we are a force to be reckoned with. We would be too powerful to ignore and abuse. And Voldemort knows that. That is what he fears. And that is why there is a price on my head. That is why he fears me."

She took a breath. And plunged on, she really should have written something down.

"It's not as if this is an outrageous proposition. It's the next logical step. I'm not asking people to take up their pitchforks and March to war. I'm saying its time to take a side. It's time to quit being victims, sheep. It's time to stand up and say that this isn't right and we are going to do something about it."

"Alright. Let's say that you do manage to organize some supporters of the cause into groups. What then. What's the next step in your plan? Having a list of names on paper doesn't really do anything but put a match to kindling."

"First order of business has to be safety. Voldemort and his people know how dangerous the masses are. That's why they want us suppressed. However, with more people involved we could implement some safety precautions that the Order doesn't have the time or resources for. I was thinking that each group could have a safe house, Unplottable of course. Then we could implement a portkey system to key people there in an emergency. That way if there was an attack or some other aggressive move we don't have housewives and children trying to defend themselves against professional killers."

"Then we need to be raising funds and starting organizations. We need organizations to help victims of this war. Organizations to educate the people. Organizations to lobby at the ministry to change law. Support groups to offer moral support. Honestly, and this might be the most controversial, we need to be training our people in defensive magic at the very least. Voldemort certainly thinks nothing of slapping Avada's on the helpless. Even children. We need to be prepared for that. Closing our eyes to the truth doesn't make the nightmare go away."

"That's a tall order Miss Granger."

"I know it won't happen overnight. But getting organized is the first step. I need the Order's support to help with safety precautions. As you said I'm only a seventeen year old girl. I can't very well go around issuing port keys or setting up safe houses." She steeled herself and looked into his eyes. This was the hard part but it was true. "I'll be doing this with or without your help."

"All right. Send out your pledge forms. Set up your meetings. You will have Order security."


End file.
